


To My beat, And You Don't Stop...

by enjouji



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: M/M, Mostly Fluff, Stripper Marco, dancers au, there might be smut later on
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-03-05
Updated: 2015-01-07
Packaged: 2018-01-14 16:39:35
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 27,903
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1273555
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/enjouji/pseuds/enjouji
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Marco's life is a little more syncopated than he wanted it to be. He knows that things won't always be this way as long as he keeps fighting the good fight. Jean on the other hand, life has been pretty much on beat. So much that the passion has been pretty much burnt him out that he considers giving it all up. </p><p>Can these 2 find a rhythm in sync with each other?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Turn Me On

**Author's Note:**

> Ok... so... originally this whole thing was just going to be a few pieces of fanart of a dance crew AU idea I had for fun after getting inspired by some dancers at my dance school...
> 
> And then this jerk [Mouse](http://thisismouseface.tumblr.com) did fanart of both [Jean](http://thisismouseface.tumblr.com/post/77367633077/this-post-spoke-to-me-okay-svdjbkna) and [Marco](http://thisismouseface.tumblr.com/post/77690539940/i-needed-to-do-the-reverse-of-this-ffff-i-must-be) as strippers. And then I remembered that a lot of professional dancers have started out as exotic dancers/strippers. Things just escalated from there.
> 
> I would like to thank Mouse for the inspiration, and my dance teacher for being super awesome and always happy to answer my questions about the world of dance! I couldn't have done this without you guys and everyone in the Jeanmarco fandom that's been super supportive.
> 
> I hope you guys like it! 
> 
> Also, [you can find me on tumblr here!](http://enjouji.tumblr.com) :D
> 
> Minor notes:
> 
> 1\. All thoughts are in _italics_.  
>  2\. Song lyrics are in **bold**.

Flickering lights and colored smoke rise from a concert stadium stage. The crowd cheers as the recognizable intro begins. Marco feels the adrenaline rush through his veins as the beat drops. It's showtime!

His moves are quick, sharp, and conceptual. Knowing all the choreography without even thinking about it, he lets the music tell him what to do. He's never been so full of life. **“I live for the applause”** is exactly what he feels. He lives for these moments. Backing up star performers like Lady Gaga and getting the crowd energized for the show. And he can hardly believe he's actually here dancing no less than 2 feet away from Gaga...

Wait... that's exactly what he can't believe. 

She turns to him right on cue, **“Live for the way that you scream and cheer for- _MARCO!_ ”**

_Hold on... that's not how the song goes._

“Marco! Hey, Marco! You're on in 5, cowboy!” that is certainly not Gaga's voice either. 

Marco stirs, blinking his eyes open. Armin's face comes into focus from where he slumped onto a gaudy-looking, backstage couch. He'd fallen asleep with his iPod going through his playlist in his ears. 

_Well that answers that question._

“Mmm...? Oh, Armin... Hello there.” Marco gives that trademark warm smile of his while rubbing the sleep out of his eyes.

“Good thing I woke you in time. You'd be in deep if Nile found you sleeping on the job. You look exhausted. Are you sure you're alright to perform?”

Marco stands to stretch. He straightens out his costume. Pull-away chaps over sinfully short bottoms, a leather vest decorated with sparkling tassel fringe, ankle high boots, and leather cuffs around his wrists. His skin is painted sparsely with glitter. That shit gets annoying to clean out, you know. “Yeah... Sorry about that. Thank you for waking me up. I guess I just overdid it at the dance studio today.”

“Today? How about this past week?! Marco, I know you really want to score this audition, but... just don't kill yourself over it. You'll nail it! You got the moves like-”

“Jaeger?” that grin on Marco's face is so wide, it's hard to believe his head didn't just split in half.

“Yeah, yeah! Now get out there and show them what you've got!”

“Kinda hoping I don't have to soon,” he winks. He picks up a black, leather, cowboy hat and takes one last look in the mirror to make sure he's put together. Rent is expensive in the city of Sina. He'll need all the tips he can get to make sure the bills get paid.

_Oh crap! Where's my lasso?!_

“LADIES AND GENTLEMEN...”

_Crap! Crap! Crap!_

“HAVE YOU COOLED DOWN? CAUSE THINGS ARE ABOUT TO HEAT UP!”

The music is already starting it's intro. He can't find it anywhere.

“PUT YOUR HANDS TOGETHER...”

 _Forget it! I can make do!_ The last thought escapes his mind as he makes a mad dash for the stage.

“FOR A CUP OF HOT COCOAAAAA!!!”

Just in time, he takes a stand behind the curtain striking his sexiest pose as a light flickers on for less than a second, quickly projecting his silhouette to the whistling audience. 

The second the song takes off, the light flashes on and “Hot Cocoa” begins his routine. The curtain remains closed, amping the crowd with anticipated excitement with what's about to come.

 **“Doctor, doctor, need you back home in bed.”**  
Left, right, wrap around, roll with it.

 **“Doctor, Doctor, where you at? Give me somethin'”**  
Up, up, hold, roll and down.

 **“I need you love, I need your love, I need your lovin'”**  
Grab, pull, grab, pull, together and pull, Dat-daa...

 **“You got that kinda medicine that keep me comin'”**  
Point, point, in, out, bap-baaa...

The second part of the 1st verse starts and the curtains whip open. Marco commands the stage taking a few powerful steps forward with the lyrics. He pauses at, **“Come and save me,”** to give the crowd a little move. He resumes his catwalk with a charismatic smile. He points forward at no one specifically in the crowd while nonchalantly passing by the stripper pole in the middle of the stage. 

On the very last line of the verse, he drops into a cat-like pose on all fours. He crawls slowly to the front of the stage as seductively as he can. He stops a second right before Nicki Minaj's drawn out **“Oh!”** to bring his hands come up to his face and his head rotates around and back slowly.

That's it Marco. Get them excited.

He skillfully stands while turning with ease to show his back to the audience. 

The song moves into the chorus and the hollers of the patrons are building up. Marco has cast a spell on his audience with his enchanting moves. When the repetitive chanting of **“Turn me on”** in the song starts, Marco bends down with his knees straight, giving the audience a show as his hands slide in and around the chaps on his legs. They grab hold of the fabric and tear it away effortlessly as Marco straightens up right as the chorus repeats. 

Marco turns on his heel back to the crowd. Whipping his chaps around his head like the tantalizing cowboy that he is. He tosses it off to his left, exhausting it's usefulness for the rest of this performance. You did well chaps. In its place are a black, elastic band around his left leg and his black “Boodt-y” shorts, as Amrin liked to word it.

He dances closer to the left edge of the stage towards hands raised of dollar bills. He smiles at each of his guests and replying with a sweet, “Thank you, baby” as he accepts their donations. He gives his patrons a little more, by letting his vest slide off his shoulders. Just a little taste.

 **“Oh you make it, make it right”**  
Something, or rather someone, catches Marco's attention on the right side of the stage. Oh, that's definitely a someone. A man was situated very close to the stage, resting the right side of his chin in his hand. Marco couldn't help think there was something interesting, maybe even familiar about that man.

Was it that haircut of his? The top of his hair is blonde and slicked back away from his eyes and forehead. The sides of his head a darker tone and shaved into an undercut. 

Maybe it was the way he dressed. He was in a well-fitted silver-gray suit, but went a little more casual with it wearing a designer t-shirt instead of a dress shirt. A pair of mirror shades nestled in the collar of his shirt.

Wait. Maybe that was it. Marco couldn't tear his gaze away from those burning golden eyes. Hmm.. something about those eyes...

Their eyes lock on each other as if time stood still. In reality it was really just couple of seconds. The man tilts his head forward to Marco smirking. It wasn't until Marco noticed that he lightly tapped his fingers against his cheek when he saw the $20 bill. It was folded neatly between his fingers held casually like a cigarette. 

**“It's only cause I feel alive”**  
Marco took it as his cue the guy wanted some attention. 

Alright, I'll bite. 

**“My body needs a hero, come and save me”**  
Going back into that sexy cat crawl, Marco saunters his way over to the man making sure to emphasize the swing in his hips. He brings his right hand up into a come hither gesture giving the man permission to come a little bit closer to the stage. The man rises and is as close to the stage as he can get without being on the stage risking security hauling his ass out. 

Marco sits up on his knees in front of the man. He places his hands on his chest and slides them down seductively down his sides stopping at the waistband of his shorts, “How are you tonight, sweetie?” His left thumb casually moves underneath the waistband and pulling it a little forward. Just a little bit. 

**“I've been feeling real low”**  
The man smiles, relinquishing his $20 to Marco's shorts, “Horrible until you showed up.”

 **“Oh, I need you to come and rescue me”**  
Marco takes his hat off and gently places it on the other man's head, still keeping a grip on it. Bringing the man just inches away from his rolling body, “Glad I can be of service!”

The second string of **“Oh!”** plays and Marco keeps the man's head in place in front of his swaying body as he rises to his feet again. Marco is on his feet and turns away taking his hat with him only to toss it off stage on one side. In time with the beat, he catwalks towards the pole away from the man. He's left him wanting so much more.

 **“Make me come alive, come on and turn me on”**  
Marco leans up on the pole and slowly dips down with hands on his knees, opening and closing his legs on the beat like a butterfly. Lips mouthing the lyrics to the song and then shoots straight up transitioning to his next move.

 **“I'm too young to die, come on and turn me on”**  
Finally the vest meets its demise with the rest of his clothes.

He grabs hold of the pole, bends his left leg, and sensually grinds while keeping eye contact with the man. As the song progresses, Marco steps around the pole to gain momentum and launches himself into a spin on the pole. 

Marco goes into a frenzy of acrobatic moves and spins, performing each flawlessly. When the song slows down for the bridge, he is upside down, turning in a graceful, descending circle. Movement flows from his shoulders down to his fingertips like water. 

When the man comes back into Marco's view, he is reclining back into his seat taking in the view. He signals for someone who Marco could guess would be a waitress. The song is about to speed up.

_Ahh! Focus, Marco! You've got this!_

His moves are quick but always right on the beat of Nicki's rap interlude. 

_Ha! Take that, Nicki!_

**“I know you can save me and make me feel alive”**  
Marco is smiling more to himself than he is at his audience after making it through the toughest part of his routine. 

The song begins to wind down at the last few seconds. And with it, Marco turns and falls into a dramatic, ending pose on his back, arms splayed to his sides and legs crossed, but one high in the air. His head tilting towards the man....

The man has left his seat with no trace of him in immediate sight. 

“WAS THAT HOT ENOUGH FOR YOU?! GIVE IT UP FOR HOT COCOOOOOAAA!!!”

The DJ has snapped Marco's attention back to the crowds. He lifts himself off the stage. 

_Still on the clock..._

The guests are lining up around the stage to tip him for his astounding performance. Marco collects his bounty, smiling and making sure to politely thank all of them while they stuff his leg band with 1s and 5s. After blowing a kiss to his final customers, he turns to pick-up his abandoned clothing and heads back stage. He's greeted with a smiling Armin with his once missing lasso. 

“Forget something?” Armin holds the lasso out to him.

Marco laughs lightly taking it from him, “Eh-heh.. yeah. Thank you,” Marco says as he takes the lasso. He starts to readjust his outfit and continuing on, “Looks like I didn't really need it. I was thinking of nixing that part anyway. It would've looked sillier than a rodeo clown, don't you think?”

“Maybe, but you completely owned it out there! Are you feeling ready for tomorrow?”

“Ahh... I think so. At least I don't have to worry too much about making rent this month.”

Armin gently nudges him in the side, “That should be your last concern. If you nail this audition, you won't have to worry about rent for another year!”

He glances away shyly rubbing the back of his neck, “That's true.” His bright smile still remains, but a thought comes across his mind, “Oh, by the way. Did you happen to catch a glimpse of that guy with the 2-toned hair in a suit by the stage?”

“No, sorry. I guess I was too focused on watching you perform to notice.” Armin cocks his head and looks at Marco with curiosity, “Any reason why?”

“Well... it's just... he seemed a little familiar. Like I've seen him before, but-”

“A-hem.” a curt sound from behind was all it took to interrupt Marco's train of thought.

“Oh, good evening, Hitch!” Marco, still polite as ever. 

There stood Hitch. A fellow co-worker dressed in the most revealing little, black dress one could wear without simply proclaiming it as a bathing suit. It was pretty much the customary uniform for this establishment anyway. And no uniform would be complete without the 6 inch, clear stilettos she was sporting. She had to have been Marco's height now, if not, taller. One arm held an empty tray, and the other rested on a hip supporting most of her weight. She had a look of elegant disdain looking at them both.

“You've been booked for 2 songs. Room 7. Mr. Kristen or whatever. Have fun.”

“Oh! Thank-” without letting him finish, she turned a heel made her way back out to the floor.

“Geez. What's her issue?” Armin raises an eyebrow watching her disappear out of view.

Marco sighs, “I'm not really sure. I wish I knew, honestly. I feel like just existing bothers her. Like in some alternate universe I was never allowed to be here.” 

He had an idea what may have been the problem. 

Pursuing the life of a professional dancer was very competitive. Landing gigs no matter how small were no easy feat. Competition aside, it's easier to get work when you're in bigger cities like Sina where all the biggest names in entertainment would be located. However, with any big city, it requires a little bit more on the finances just to get by day-to-day while still attempting to live the dream. Which, unfortunately for Marco, simply waiting tables would not cover rent for his tiny, rundown box of an apartment. And while the money was good for being one of the more favorable acts at Club 104, it certainly did nothing for Hitch's jealously of getting more spotlight time. Especially on their busier nights. 

Well, there's not a whole lot he could do about that aside from quitting. For now this was the way things are. Stripping until he could get to where he wanted to be. Ah yes, the stripping part. 

At least with the stripping gig, it was a little closer to what he wanted to do in the long run. Despite the environment, there was nothing that could take away the feeling of being completely lost in the music and shutting all your worries out even for a few minutes. The crowds cheering your name... 

Ok... maybe they're cheering more for “Hot Cocoa”, but still! Beggars can't be choosers when it comes to getting paid for something that's at least within the realm of what you enjoy doing. 

“Oh! Marco! Didn't she say you have a client? Maybe... do you think it's that guy you were talking about?”

“Huh? Ahh! That's right. She did mention it... Mr. Kristen in room-”

“Lucky #7! And 2 songs? Must be a really good night for you!”

“Ah... ha... I kinda didn't want to stay here too long. The audition for Krista's back-up dancers is tomorrow,” Marco had been putting in extra time in the dance studio for this possible chance to dance next to the pop sensation Krista in her upcoming, “Off the Wall” tour. It was going to be huge and would definitely help his dance career. 

“Well, what are you waiting for? Go! Shoo! The sooner you get in, the sooner you get out!”

“Right! Right!” Marco set on his way. He glanced over his shoulder at Armin one last time, “You're trying out tomorrow too, right?” 

“Ahh... we'll see! I'm not as good as the rest of you guys. Enough about me, just go!” 

“Don't say that! You'll be fine! I'll see you tomorrow!” 

They waved goodbye to each other and Marco set out on his way to room #7. As he approaches the door, he notices Reiner, one of the bodyguards, stands just to the side of the door. Marco gives yet another one of his smiles, “Good Evening, Reiner!”

“Hey, what's up? You're in for 2 songs. Dude looks a little skivvy if you ask me. If he tries anything...”

Marco raises a hand to him, “I know. You don't have to worry. I'm a big boy too you know. Plus, I have some protection,” Marco winks while patting the lasso at his side.

“Yeah, yeah,” Reiner returns the smile, but still offers a caution, “But we can't risk anyone laying a finger on our beloved Marco. The world would be a sadder place if anything happened to you.”

Marco gave Reiner a genuine smile. For Reiner to refer to him by his name instead of his stage name meant something. “Yes, yes. All doom and gloom. Just remember it's not forever,” he laughs. He returns his attention to the door. He inhales a breath and puts a hand on the door knob. He suddenly feels a little nervous, “I'll see you in a bit!”

_Breathe, Marco. What's got you so nervous? 2 songs is nothing. Just get in and get it done._

Exhaling, he tilts his hat down looking to the floor turning the knob slowly. Within seconds, he enters the dimly lit room of red lights and gaudy decorations. He leans against the door shutting the world outside off once it closes. Hands behind his back, a leg lifted and steadied against the door, his head still towards the ground.

A slow, sensual groove begins to play on the sound system. It was at just the right volume level so he and his client could have a casual conversation without having to raise their voice. 

He tilts his head up slowly with heavy, lidded eye contact with a sexy smile, “Evenin' sir...”


	2. Human Nature

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Marco gives more than a lesson in lap dancing 101. A lesson he never thought he'd have to give and one this man sure as hell wasn't expecting.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Also, later today, I have a special art treat for you guys! Come find it on my tumblr! I think you might like it. ;)

The red lights of the champagne room are a bit of a strain on the eyes. Thank God for that. For the first time in what seems like forever, Marco could feel a blush creeping across his freckle, painted cheeks. In the center of this small room was a disturbingly worn, leather recliner with a simple, handcrafted table next to it. A freshly opened bottle of champagne waiting to be enjoyed rests next to an empty glass. 

These things don't matter though. Not when the man who'd caught Marco's attention previously was sitting just a few feet before him. “Good evening to _you_ ,” the man spoke with a soft tone. 

There is an air about him as he reclines just slightly into his seat taking in the view. He rests a leg on an opposite knee. A second glass filled with a red wine swirls delicately in his hand. He brings the glass to his lips taking a slow sip keeping his eyes on Marco. “Can I offer you a drink?” he inquires. 

_He seems polite enough at least._

Marco answers with a warm smile, “Thank you, but the boss would get upset if I was intoxicated on the job. You understand.” 

Disappointment is brief, but the man nods acknowledging the circumstances. He sets his drink down and settles back into the chair. Lacing fingers behind his head, he is now at Marco's disposal for a private lesson in lap dancing 101. 

Biggie Smalls sets the sensual groove for the first song on tap. Marco kicks himself off the door with poise. Allowing the music to dictate his moves, his hands begin roaming over his body. They caress down the side of his neck to his chest, continuing downward to trace the ridges of his torso. Fingers splay as they bypass his crotch and run smoothly down his thighs. He lightly rakes his fingernails back up and leisurely turns around. Chaps are nice and all, but they would've gotten in the way of that picturesque view of Marco's “Boodt-y”. He's kinda glad he left them at the door. Sorry chaps. It's just not your day.

In keeping with the mood of the song, Marco lets his vest slide off of his shoulders just enough to rest on his elbows. Giving just a glimpse of the galaxy of freckles that splatter across his upper body. He shoots a curious look over his shoulder at the man, “You know the rules, right?”

“There's no sex in the champagne room?” 

Marco lets out a light snort, “None.”

Turning on his heel back to face the man, Marco saunters his way towards him. Eyes locked on each other the entire time. Halting right in front of his watchful client, his hands grasp at the edges of the leather vest. He rocks his body from side to side and opens his vest up like a blooming flower. He holds it open for mere seconds, still swaying to the beat before letting it drop gracefully to the floor. 

The man uncrosses his legs and leans further back into the recliner with hands now resting on his knees. Marco casually bends forward, hands finding a home on the armrests of the chair. Keeping his knees together, he slinks his sultry body down to the floor until he's resting on his calves. Marco flashes his best 'boy next door' smile he could muster, “Thank you for your patronage. Please relax and enjoy the show.” 

**“In the middle of the day now baby, I seem to think of only you”**  
Marco moves forward, rolling his body up alarmingly close to the man until he's back on his feet bent over him. Hovering just inches away from him, the man eyes him up and down and Marco can hear him struggling to keep his breathing even. Marco stands up a little straighter, moving his hands behind his head and up into the air. Hips swishing side to side with the song's smooth rhythm. 

“So what's your name?” the man asks.

“Hot Cocoa,” Marco replies with devious grin.

He snickers, “Your mama named you 'Hot Cocoa'?”

Marco giggles a little, “I'm 'Hot Cocoa' between 10 PM to 1 AM for tonight, sweetie.”

 **”I can't wait for the day, that we can be together”**  
“What should I call you at 1:01 AM?”

“You're so funny,” Marco laughs. It's not unusual for a guest to want to hook-up with him. This was nothing new to him. Unfortunately, it comes with the job. 

**“I can't let you walk away”**  
“Come on. Wouldn't you want some company later?”

Marco brushes him off with a light laugh. He is strictly here to work as a dancer. Nothing more, nothing less. While there are some who offer “services” outside of a dance, Marco was never interested in hook-ups for cash and he wasn't planning to change now. Though if Marco were to be honest, he did find him to be damned attractive. If he wasn't such a prude about one night stands, he might even consider taking him home for a little private dance lesson in bed. Still, Marco had a job to do. He was a paying customer after all.

 **“And there's nothing left to say”**  
Marco removes his hat pulling it forward and down covering his face. It travels down his handsomely, toned body making a pit stop at his crotch. Marco swivels his hips with the music holding his hat in place. He gives the man a devilish smirk as he brings the hat to it's final destination for the evening on top of that mop of slick, blond hair. 

_I know I've seen that hair before... Just... where?_

The infamous “Boodt-y” makes a return appearance when Marco uses the circular motion in his hips to guide his backside to the man again. His fingers lazily glide up his body making their way to his head to tangle themselves in his hair. Marco can't see him, but he distinctively hears a small sound of approval from behind. 

_I guess I can give him a little bit of a treat._

He takes the man's hands in his own and places them on his hips. Ever so slowly, he gives the man's hands a private tour up his torso and back down to the middle of his thighs. Marco releases his hands silently giving the man permission to allow his hands to wander where he was shown. Pleased with the new found privilege, the man slowly grazes his hands up and down Marco's sides. Of course, lingering closer to areas where “Boodt-y” resides. He's careful not to mess with the cash still strapped to Marco's thigh.

_I probably should have put that away. Oh well..._

Marco bends forward, hands on his legs as they slip down to his ankles. His back is as flat as a table top you could have a meal on. He shakes what his mama gave him at the man. Not a twerk mind you. He's too classy for that. Still keeping his hands on his legs, he rolls back up on his spine, adding a little body roll at the end. 

Time to move onto more risque dancing techniques. Marco takes things a step further. Or rather, closer in this instance. With the guidance of the man's hands on his hips, Marco finds a seat in his lap. 

_Now for the real show to begin._

**”Can't you see, what you do to me”**  
Making sure not to settle his full weight into the man, he places his hands on the armrests to keep his balance. Even without crushing down on him, Marco learns very quickly he was doing a good job.

_Well hello there._

Marco turns his head around as best he could to grin at the man.“I didn't know you were _that happy_ to see me,” he muses.

Despite the dim lighting of this room, he's pretty sure the man is flushed with embarrassment as he turns his head away. Averting Marco's gaze. Marco grins, deciding to press it further. Quite literally. Teasing hips begin a slow, rotating grind on his captive. The man's hands move up his sides while releasing another appreciative hum. Marco can feel himself shiver a little when a hot breath graces his neck. Everything was fine for Marco up until he felt hands move to his hips pushing him down forcefully. Simultaneously, another set of hips pushed up into him. Harder and eager for more friction.

Not wanting to relinquish control to a complete stranger, Marco carefully rises to his feet in a way that won't upset the man. He faces the man with a wagging finger. “Ah, ah ahhhh!” Marco chides him like a kid caught with his hand in the cookie jar. The man feigns innocence with a look of “I don't know what you're talking about” plastered across his face. 

“WHOA!” the man cries. Marco had pushed the recliner's lever with his foot making the back of the seat suddenly drop, taking the man with it. The man was taken completely off guard, “Give a guy some warning!” 

“I'm sorry,” Marco whispered. He couldn't stifle a small laugh that escaped his lips at the man's expense. Thankfully, he didn't seem to mind as they shared a laugh together. 

Back to business, Marco crawls onto the chair, legs spread wide and resting his knees on either side of the man's thighs. The man returns his hands to Marco's sides with his eyes settled on his legs. He gently traces light patterns over freckle dusted thighs. Ignoring the glitter that he picks up with his fingers. His attention is broken from playing connect the dots when he feels Marco's hands on his shoulders. Finding more control in this position, Marco uses those tantalizing hips of his to sensually pull himself up against the man's abdominals. 

_Oh! So he's built. I wonder what he does for a living._

Marco couldn't help letting a breath find it's way out as he moves back down the man's torso. He repeats the same move, but throws his head back this time to keep things interesting. He allows his hands to caress the man's shoulders down and up as he brings himself back in. 

Deciding to show off some of his flexibility, Marco bends backwards creating a perfect arch with his spine and his head situated between the man's shins. He probably freaked the man out a little as Marco felt his hands scramble to his back with concern he might fall. 

_Awww, how sweet of him._

**”Can't you see, what you do to me”**  
The music is starting to slowly fade out. Marco rises back up with ease while bringing his hands up to cup the man's face. He brings their heads so close together they almost slam into each other. Marco exhales a deep breath he didn't even know he was holding. They're so close. Just a few inches. The only sound they can hear are each others' breathing. Their heartbeats. Eyes have found each other again. 

For a moment they were completely detached from the rest of the world. 

As eyes start to close, the man starts closing in on those last few inches...

 **”Express yourself, don't repress yourself”**  
Madonna's heavy whisper breaks them of their trance. Marco turns his head to the side avoiding a near kiss.

_That was close..._

The music change is a little more on the darker side. Regaining his composure, Marco turns back to the man. “Last song,” he reminds him quietly with a smile. “Hot Cocoa” needed to retake control of the reigns again before he does something he'll regret. 

“Uhh...” the man was searching for words.

**You wouldn't let me say the words I longed to say**  
Marco held a finger to his lips, silencing him. He lifts his right leg to rest his foot on the arm rest. The man's eyes watch him tentatively as Marco bites his lower lip. Marco's hands move away from the man's face, bringing his right hand to massage his thigh. With eyes still on each other, the man barely notices Marco's left hand snaking around to the back of his head. 

Holding his hair in a light grip, he pulls the man in closer to him, eye level with his groin. Marco circulates his pelvis in a alternating rhythm of quick and slow thrust movements. A warm breath tickles the fine hairs on his legs. Marco plays his moves to the beat of the song. He stays with the flow until a pair of hands throw him off key.

 **”You tried to shove me back inside your narrow room”**  
Marco thought it was pretty clear what the man was allowed to do as far as touching goes. Trying to shove your fingers under his shorts was definitely not one of them. Marco stops his movements abruptly to swat away the unwanted touches. 

“Please don't do that,” Marco advices. Despite the situation, he remains professional and polite. 

“I thought this was part of your job.”

“I'm a dancer, not a hooker.” 

**”Did I say something wrong?”**  
“Could've fooled me.”

As much as he wanted to slug the man right there on the spot, Marco keeps his cool. “Sir, if it displeases you, I'll happily ask the manager to give you a refund.”

“I don't see what the big deal is. I mean you looked really into it. I'm sure you've done this before.”

 **”It's human nature”**  
“I'm sorry, but what?” Marco could feel the last of his patience begin to snap.

“I mean it's only natural. You and me, we're both fine as hell. Laws of attraction,” This asshole looks so proud of himself. “So what's it gonna take to get a piece?”

 **”I'm not your bitch, don't hang your shit on me”**  
Marco prided himself on his ability to perform quick dance moves. He prided himself even more over how he grabbed for his lasso and had it around the man's neck quicker than two shakes of his hips. Marco used enough force to push the man down into the seat knocking his hat off. His right hand grips the lasso's knot holding it close to the man's throat, the left pulling the excess rope taut in a tight fist.

“Uhrrkkkk!”

“You don't know a thing about me, so let me clear up a few things for you,” he starts with a forced smile. “I'm a dancer, but more than that, I'm a human being and all human beings deserve respect.” 

Marco couldn't understand why he zoned in on this man. What this man did was no different from others before him. He'd been through it before and always brushed it off. Today, he was definitely having none of it from this guy. Perhaps he was feeling a little sympathetic since he really didn't know much about him either. “Either you let me do the job you paid me to do and take care of your problem yourself, or I scream and let Reiner outside take over. Which will it be, Mr. Kristen?”

“I-it's...Kir-sh-shhh-st-nnn!”

Marco raises and eyebrow at the strangled comment. He loosens the rope, just a touch, “I'm sorry, what?”

“Jean... Kirsch...stein...”

“Kirchstein?” Marco knows he's heard that name befo-

_OH MY GOD!_

Marco jumps backwards dropping the rope with a loud gasp. A wave of realization comes crashing in on Marco as he finally pieces together where he's seen this man before. 

The man falls to the side of his chair, massaging his throat through a coughing fit and taking big breaths of air. “Geez... *cough* wha- *cough cough* what the hell?!”

_Of all people... why him?!_

“I...” Marco takes a step back hesitating, wide eyed with disbelief. 

The words seem to get stuck in his throat. So he did what anyone would do. Like Cinderella leaving the ball at midnight, he took off and made for the exit.

Marco practically plummeted through the doorway when it slams open with a loud bang from the force. A startled Reiner calls after him as he dashed by, “Marco!? Hey!”

“Feelingsickgoinghomesorry!”

Reiner was unsure how to take that. All he could do was watch in bewilderment as Marco disappeared into the back. “What the hell?”

A coughing fit behind him distracted him from his thoughts. Reiner turns to see Mr. Kirchstein leaning against the door frame. A hand still rubbing at his neck. The two eye each other with brows burrowing so far down into their skulls they may as well be knitting sweaters. “What?!” Jean asks flatly.

Reiner eyes him up and down with a frown, stopping on Jean's neck.

Jean notices his angry stare. He looks down at the lasso still hanging loosely around his neck. He gives Reiner a smug grin, “Jealous?”

And in that instance... not another word was spoken... as Reiner hand found its way to the lasso around Jean's neck.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Marco has finally recognized who this man is, but who exactly IS Jean Kirchstein? Why is Marco so terrified of him? Find out next time in chapter 3! "The Audition".
> 
> Also! I guess I should keep a running tab on the playlist for this series. If you're interested in checking out the music that goes with each chapter here is what we got so far:
> 
> Track 01: "Applause" by Lady GaGa (chap. 1)  
> Track 02: "Turn Me On" by David Guetta feat. Nicki Minaj (chap. 1)  
> Track 03: "Can't You See" by Total feat. Notorious B.I.G. (chap. 2)  
> Track 04: "Human Nature" by Madonna (chap. 2)
> 
> I'll keep adding to the playlist as this series goes on!
> 
> Thank you everyone for your awesome words of encouragement! It's definitely helped me in more ways than you know! I intend to try to keep this fic updated every Wednesday, but the next update might come a few days later. This weekend, I'll be attending the Middle Georgia Comic Con in Macon, GA. If you're there, be sure to come find me and say hello! :D
> 
> Let's hope I can get the next chapter out on time! Thank you so much for reading! *hugs to all!*
> 
> Follow me on tumblr! :D


	3. Dance or Die

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's audition day for Marco Bodt, the day that Marco and his friends have been looking forward to. Scoring this audition could mean big things for Marco and Co., but his mind is a mess after the previous night's events. Can he get his head in the game? Or is this Jean Kirschstein going to be his downfall? Let's find out!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A few fun things:
> 
> First of all, I would like to give a HUGE shout-out to 2 very wonderful people in the world. I huge thank you to both [Lemonorangelime](http://lemonorangelime.tumblr.com) and [Laurel](http://la-la-la-laurel.tumblr.com) for taking time out of their day and giving me fantastic edits on this chapter. Holy crap, I am so sorry for all my grammatical errors. Please forgive me! X( Please go follow them and tell them how wonderful they are! (Especially Lemon for her amazeballs arts! <3)
> 
> And of course, I can't forget my [Juju](http://ticklefighting.tumblr.com) for calling upon her asshole powers when I got stuck on what Levi should say in this fic.
> 
> Second, just in case you missed it, I did [art for chapter 2](http://enjouji.tumblr.com/post/79419962043/so-i-did-a-thing-for-chapter-2-of-my-fic-to-my). Warning, it's sorta, kinda nsfw-ish. ;) I hope you guys like it!
> 
> Third, I'm sorry that I'm a day late on my update! I try to shoot for a Wednesday update, but sometimes life gets in my way. As a heads up chapter 4 is definitely going to be a little late. It might even be a bit longer than the previous chapters, but I'm super excited for it! I hope the wait will be worth it!
> 
> And lastly, OMG! Thank you all so, so much for your support and kind words! I never expected this kind of response. SO thank you all for following along and I hope you'll keep enjoying this series as it continues. 
> 
> Now then, let's get on with it shall we?!
> 
>  
> 
> [Come follow me on tumblr!](http://hac.studios.tumblr.com)

“So Marco, I've got this really awesome idea we should try...”

Marco can see Eren's lips moving and hear the words coming out of his mouth. They just don't register as his mind is occupied going over the details of what transpired last night. Everything in the last 12 hours was pretty much a blur to him. He barely remembered putting pants on this morning while running out the door in a state of panic. Luckily, he made it to the dance studio just as they were about to close check-ins. Had he left a second later, he could kiss this audition goodbye. 

What even happened last night?

Jean Kirschstein happened, that's what.

THE Jean Kirschstein. 

There were a few facts that were stuck on repeat in Marco's thoughts.

First: _I gave a lapdance to Jean Kirschstein._

Second: _Jean Kirschstein hit on me for sex._

And finally: _OH MY GOD, I PUT JEAN KIRSCHSTEIN IN A CHOKEHOLD._

Jean Kirschstein: World-renowned dancer and choreographer in the entertainment industry at the spry young age of 15. Jean started dancing as soon as he could move. He's worked on practically any and every successful project in the biz. Whether he was a back-up dancer, or the lead choreographer in music videos, movies, or huge, live performances, Jean had done it. Everything that Marco had long to achieve, killing himself working his ass off for, Jean surpassed him 10 times over. 

Like someone's grandma watching YouTube videos of cats all day, Marco would watch _hours_ of Jean's performances, studying his moves. Jean moved as naturally as flowing water. Every move was deliberate and carried emotion that sent shivers up Marco's spine when he watched him. Seeing Jean dance made even those without a sense of rhythm want to get up and do their thang.

Jean was someone that Marco idolized. Someone that inspired him. 

And in one evening, the flawless ideal that Marco painted of Jean had crumbled to the tune of a Madonna song. 

Maybe it was unfair of Marco to hold Jean to his unrealistic expectations. He didn't know a thing about the man behind the camera after all. He just didn't think Jean would be the type to stoop as low as treating a stranger like his plaything.

Upon realizing who he had pinned down in submission on a dingy, love-worn recliner, Marco ran out of the club without a second thought. OK, maybe one. He had to at least grab his coat before making the walk of shame home. Nothing is more embarrassing than the stares you get when you're practically wearing nothing but underwear and glitter. 

Fortunately for Marco, the embarrassment was the least of his worries. If he ever hoped to pursue a career in dance without stripping anymore, he'd have to pray to whatever higher being would have mercy on him that he would never have to run into Jean ever again. Which, as the way things go in this world, wasn't very likely.

“Marco? Yoooo! You in there buddy?” Eren asks as he taps Marco's forehead with a finger. Marco nearly forgot where he was at the moment. Much less his conversation with Eren about future ideas for their dance crew.

“Uh, yeah. Sounds great.” He closes his eyes and rubs his temples, attempting to clear his head. He couldn't sleep a wink thanks to his brain going into overdrive with a million worst-case scenarios. 

“What's up, man? Armin said last night you ran out of the club like monsters invaded your village or something. You OK?” 

“I'm... fine. Really. Where is Armin anyway? He didn't back out, did he?” Marco looks around for his blonde friend.

“He's around. Probably just getting the lowdown on what we're up against here”.

Marco laughs lightly, “That's Armin. Our little tactician”.

“But for real, you gonna be OK? We all know how bad you want this”. 

“I told you. I'm fine. I've never been more ready,” Marco offered a reassuring smile. 

Just then, the rest of their crew started to pile in around them. Marco takes a head count: Eren, Mikasa, Sasha, and Connie. Each of them wears a tag with giant black numbers across their chests showing they've all signed in and are ready to go. 

Out of the corner of his eye, he is happy to see Armin making his way to the group. He too wears a number. It brings a smile to Marco's face knowing Armin didn't back out of the audition. It wouldn't have been the same without him. In his arms, he carries bottles of water and protein bars for everyone. He brought an extra bar for Sasha, knowing how hungry she'd get.

Connie throws an arm around Marco's shoulders, pulling him down to his level with a huge grin, “So, fearless leader, we're all here! Gonna give us a captivating speech!?” 

“Speech! Speech! Speech!” Sasha chants throwing a fist in the air.

Everyone's eyes and ears are fixated on Marco. “Well...” Marco takes a second to get his thoughts in order. Jean needs to be put on a shelf for now. “This is it, guys. The chance we've all been working hard towards. To really spread our wings and show the world that we got this. Even if we don't make it, the dream doesn't stop here. Not ever. By the end of the day, they're going to know who we are. We're a force they can't ignore. We're going to bring it, and bring it hard. We're gonna own this! _All of us._ All in.”

They all gather in a tight circle, each turning to the side with one foot in the middle of the circle. 

Marco gets his crew amped, “Who are we?!”

“A bunch of losers,” a voice cuts in behind Marco. A pure buzz kill. 

He looks over his shoulder and his voice lowers a little, “Hello, Hitch.” 

She stands just a few feet away. Arms crossed over her chest and resting most of her weight on one leg, her head held high looking down the bridge of her nose at Marco with a sneer. Lingering close behind her was the rest of her jubilant crew: Marlowe, Boris, and that drifter Annie who couldn't care less about her surroundings. “Didn't think you'd be here after you bailed on your shift last night. Reiner said you were sick, but you look fine to me. Are you playing hooky, Freckles Sweetie?” 

“As you can see, Hitch, he's fine. So why don't you bounce?” Eren tries to step up to Hitch, but Mikasa places a hand on his shoulder to stop him. 

“Eren, please,” Marco tries to keep the waters clear. He's never one for fighting.

“Or maybe it had something to do with your client. A Mr. Jean Kirschstein, maybe? What? Did he reject your offer to blow him for a job?”

“That's it! Earrings off. Let's go!” And now it's Connie who moves in to restrain Sasha from throwing down.

“OK! That's enough,” Marco gives a stern yet gentle look to Sasha. He turns back to Hitch, completely disregarding her comments,” Hitch, I wish you and your friends all good luck. Let's do our best.”

He holds a hand out to Hitch, wanting to call a truce. She raises a brow at the hand and looks him dead in the eye with a frown. “Tch!” Rolling her eyes, she leaves him hanging. “Yeah. Whatever.” Marco was still beneath her. She motions for her group to retreat without another word. 

Boris follows her blindly, but Marlowe hesitates a moment before turning away. He's not a bad guy, but he just can't leave his friends. Annie trails not too far behind out of a lack of better things to do. 

“Man, what a bitch!” Sasha doesn't hide her displeasure.

“That's Hitch for you. Hitch, 'the bitch',” Connie snickers at his own joke and Sasha joins in.

“Alright guys, let it go. We have more important things to deal with.” Marco, always the adult. He smiles, “Shall we try this again?” 

Marco refuses to let Hitch's appearance kill their mood. With their spirit returning, Marco gathers them together again, “Who are we?!”

“3DMGROOOOOOVE!” They all throw a fist in the center like they're giving out a mass fist bump. They pull back just as quickly making their fists look like they exploded, shockwaves running through their fingers.

They break out into groups amongst themselves and start stretching their muscles. Marco keeps his smile up with his friends, but under those smiling eyes, he is hurting. Hitch's words cut him pretty deep. Deeper than he was willing to admit, despite them being bogus accusations. But like most of his stressful thoughts, he pushes them to the back of his mind alongside his thoughts of Jean. Right now, he needs to focus. 

Armin had a hunch that something may have been up with Marco. It's still unclear to him what really happened the past evening. Hearing Hitch utter the name “Jean Kirschstein” gave him a pretty good idea of what was wrong. Even if Marco never told him, he still wants to make sure he's alright. “Hey Mar-”

**BAM!**

All heads turn to a set of double-doors of the studio where 3 men walk in. At the front of the trio is a very short, angry-looking guy dressed in casual business attire. His hair is black and shaved into a clean undercut. Marco wonders if this was Krista's infamous tough-as-nails, no bullshit manager, Levi Rivaille. To his right, there is another man much taller than him with long blonde hair tied back in a neat ponytail that was folded on itself. He wears similar clothing, but looks a bit more relaxed than the former. He must be Levi's assistant or something.

The third man is about as tall as the blonde. He has black hair slicked back into a pointed swoop. His clothing contrasts to the others', wearing very comfortable clothing: loose track pants, a tank, and slick kicks that were perfect to dance in. 

Marco exhales a huge sigh of relief when he recognizes him as Gunther Schultz, AKA B-Boy Backslash. Part of what kept Marco up all night was a fear of running into Jean at this audition. There was a huge possibility he would be in to take charge of casting dancers for this tour. Marco didn't exactly leave the best first impression on Jean. Then again, Jean didn't leave the best first impression on Marco.

If that were the case, Marco would have just walked right out of the studio and crawled under the biggest rock, never to see the light of day again. Seeing Gunther puts his mind at ease, knowing he doesn't have to deal with Jean. At least, not for now.

The three make their way to a small stage that overlooks the entire auditorium. A long table lined with chairs sits to the left of the stage up front. On top of the table are few bottles of water, pens, and several large stacks of applications for every dancer in the room. 

_I wouldn't want to be the poor guy who has to go through all that paperwork. Yikes!_

In the corners of this massive room are large speakers all connected to audio equipment situated next to the table. At the center of the stage is a stand holding a microphone that the shorter man approaches with a distasteful look on his face. Irritated with the height of the stand, he yanks the mic off and takes command of everyone's senses, “Listen up, shit heads!” The place goes dead as hundreds of heads turn to zone in on his threatening voice. “I'm Levi Rivaille, but you pissants can refer to me as 'Captain'.” 

Marco exchanges a look with Eren, shrugging and shooting him a look that pretty much says “just roll with it”. 

“As some of you may have already figured it out - if your brains aren't running off hamster wheels - I am in charge of this whole charade of overly bedazzled, song-and-dance, legion of twits. If your feelings are easily hurt, I suggest you start running home to your mamas now and spare me your wasted tears. I'll tell you right now, I ran out of fucks to give long before some of you were born.”

Marco can see a few applicants slowly making their way to the door. Even he is feeling a little tense from Levi's words. 

Levi continues on with his heartwarming speech, “Today, Gunther here will be in charge of teaching a short routine you need to have mastered in 30 minutes. Way too much time if you ask me. I'll be watching you all very closely. After that, you'll be broken down into groups of 10 to present what you've learned. If I call your number, move to the left side of the room. If I don't, do yourself a favor and leave quietly. We have more important things to do, and listening to your sob story ain't one of them.”

His whimsical words had a way with people as a few more take their leave. When the last few have trickled out, he presses on, “I'd congratulate those who get called to stay, but I wouldn't want you all to get cocky. Round 1 just means you suck slightly less than those failures before you.” Levi casts his judging eyes around the room, “There are still hundreds of you here awaiting disappointment, so let's get this circus of dancing monkeys on the road.” 

Instead of placing the mic back on the stand, he drops it to the ground, further expressing his disapproval for anything taller than him. He turns and nods to Gunther to take over, moving to take a seat at the table. The blonde picks up the mic and stand and moves them out of the way. 

Gunther takes center stage and clears his throat. He turns on his wireless mic attached to his shirt and speaks to the dancers, “Right, then. Thank you everyone for making it out here. The routine you'll be learning today is going to test various aspects of your dancing abilities. We're going to go through this very quickly, so pay close attention.” He realizes that most of them have already been scared shitless by the blunt captain. If they were hoping to get through today with more than a handful of dancers, he needed to do a bit of damage control, “Just relax and have fun. We're not expecting you to be perfect.”

“HA!” Levi taunts.

Pretending not to notice Levi, he carries on, “Obviously, we want you to learn this routine to a T, but we also want to see you shine. Be yourselves. Let your personality come through. Are you all ready?!”

The cheers of hundreds of dancers ring through. That helped.

“Everyone line up! Be sure to stagger yourselves so everyone can see,” he ordered.

It's very cramped, but everyone works with the space they have as best they could. Marco does a quick check to see that his crew has enough space to dance in. He smiles at each one of them hoping to give them all encouragement through this ordeal. 

Once Gunther is satisfied that all the dancers have moved into position, he speaks again, “First, I'm going to show you what you'll be learning. Watch carefully.” He looks over his shoulder at the blonde, “Eld. Music.”

The blonde man now identified as Eld, hits the queued music.

A mellow voice of spoken words fills the silence following a soft drum beat. 

**”Oh these dreams are forever!”**  
Gunther tilts his head, letting it bob in tune with the beat. He doesn't stand still as he lets the music put him into a trance, rocking gently from side to side. His left hand is fisted into his pants where the joint of his leg and hip meet. The other is in a tight fist, going from side to side like a conductor, counting the beats before his cue. The music is slowly building up and you can feel him revving up to take off.

**”Mastery. _Mastery._ Solar. _Solar._ Battery.”**  
He falls right into the dance. A string of quick moves that follow along with Janelle Monae's eerie, but soothing voice. Within his chain of rapid fire choreo, he sprinkles in a few slow moves that embrace the music. Marco watches with unblinking eyes, taking in every minor detail and subtlety. He is determined to master this dance even if it kills him.

The first verse comes to a close and Gunther drops into a pose indicating where their lesson would end. Many of the dancers applaud and cheer for Gunther, pumped and ready to learn the dance. Some are quiet and unsure. It was 30 seconds long, but it's a lot to commit it to muscle memory in 30 minutes. 

It was going to be tough, but Marco has confidence that he and his team can get it down perfectly. All of them have worked so hard leading up to this audition not to. He turns to give everyone another encouraging smile. 

Half an hour passes in a blink of an eye and they've all absorbed as much as they can. They're all thinking that they will get a quick break until Levi shatters all delusions when his voice comes thundering down upon them, “Alright you mouth breathers. Eliminations are about to get underway. If you're going to piss your pants now, the door is that way.” He is actually impressed that no one makes a move to exit. So impressed that a corner of his mouth may have twitched a little into a slanted grin. “Very well. Good luck to you all. You're going to need it.”

Eld comes up to him and takes up the mic this time, “The eliminations will now begin. If I could have everyone please move to the right side of the room. We'll need the center area cleared. We'll begin with applicants 102-00 to 102-09. Please come line up in 2 rows of 5. Again, if your number is called after your performance, please move to the left. The rest, well... You know the drill.”

Marco looks down at his number. 104-07. He is going to be here for a while it seems. That's what he gets for arriving just before the door closes. He doesn't mind too much. It allows him to go over the moves in his head. 

Even though the room was filled nearly to the brim with hopefuls, their numbers dwindle at an alarming rate. For every 10 dancers, only two to four had made it. Before you know it, less than a third of those who originally applied survived round 1. Thankfully, Marco and Co. pass with flying colors, including Armin! And much to dismay of some, so does Hitch and her band of pirates. 

Marco could feel Hitch's eyes boring into his back like daggers. However, months of working with Hitch meant he had a lot of practice learning how to turn her off. Things were only going to get harder from this point out. 

_Eyes on the prize, Marco._

Nothing was going to deter him. Nothing.

The loud bang of the double doors doesn't stir him so much as the voice that follows, “Fucking hell, who makes doors this shitty?! Bad enough with this fucking headache.”

“You reap what you sow, so stop with the whining you overgrown baby.”

“Ymir... leave him alone. He had a rough night.”

“Getting thrown out of a club for being a tool isn't rough, Krista. It's well-deserved.”

“Can it!”

_You've got to be kidding me._

And there he is. The one person Marco had hoped he would never have to face ever again. 

Jean _fucking_ Kirschstein.

Someone must really hate him. And that someone must have be Hitch because no less than two seconds later, she's on him like a bloodsucking leech. “Oh, look who it is. Mr. Customer from last night. Maybe you'll get lucky and he might reinstate your offer”. Her wicked giggling resonates in his ear as she walks off. 

At this point, Marco doesn't think his day can get any worse. 

_Fuckfuckfuckfuckfuck. Why? Why now of all times?!_

“Welcome everyone to Round 2! Congratulations on making it this far!” Eld began. “We're going to switch things up a little differently this time. Four of you will perform at once, and this time, you'll be judged by a different panel of expert judges. In seat number 1 we have our lovely, permanent dancer, Ymir.” A healthy applause from the crowd sounds off. Ymir nonchalantly waves to the crowd.

“Secondly, and most importantly out of everyone here. Our beautiful, and lovely in every way, pop angel, Krista!” The crowd erupts in a wild applause of screams, whistles, and wild clapping. Krista stands, waving excitedly with the brightest smile to the audience. She was simply adorable in a fashionable ensemble and her hair in ponytails.

“And last, but not least, let's have a round of applause for our lead choreographer on this tour, Jean Kirschstein!” The applause is almost as loud as Krista's, seeing as a lot of the candidates look up to Jean and aspire to be him one day. He puts about as much effort into his wave as Ymir did. Even behind those douchey mirror shades, he can't hide his hangover and a small bruise forming just under his left eye. He looks miserable.

Marco would have been a part of those cheers had he not already gotten the pleasure of an up-close-and-personal meet-and-greet with said choreographer. The sound you would have heard ringing throughout the building was the sounds of Marco's internal screaming. 

Sensing the turmoil that Marco was battling within, Armin gives him a nudge to his ribs. Armin whispers to him, “Marco, snap out of it. This is your big chance. He was drunk, right? He might not remember you at all. You got this!”

Maybe Armin is right. Maybe Jean has forgotten him. “Yeah... Thanks, Armin,” they exchange smiles. He brings his hands to face and slaps his cheeks trying to recalibrate himself, “Let's do this!”

The pace at which Round 2 takes off at goes by much faster than Round 1 regardless of there being fewer people performing at a time. And much like Round 1, every one of Marco's friends ace their auditions managing to score a spot in the final 20 dancers they would hire. Sadly, yes, Hitch and friends make it as well. Marco couldn't care less about Hitch anyway. He is so proud that Armin, who had no faith in his abilities, is among the top 20 to get a spot. 

Finally, Marco's turn to perform is next. It's nerve wracking for him to say the least. There was only ONE spot left open. Coincidentally, he is in the last group to perform. He really needed to bring his A-game.

_Whatever God or force of nature can hear me, please, please, PLEASE just let me get through this._

Marco takes his position before the judges. Time seems to stand still as he waits for the music to play for what was probably the thousandth time today. He can't bear to look at Jean. Instead, he fixates on a happier looking face, Krista's. He gives her the warmest smile he can muster. He chances a quick peek in Jean's direction. He looks done. Done with everything and ready to find the nearest bed he can pass out onto. 

_At least he doesn't seem to recognize me._

On cue, the music plays for the last time that day. 

_You can do this. You can do this._

He repeats the mantra over and over in his head. Channeling everything out, he lets the music take the helm of his thoughts, allowing it to control all his movements. 

**”So you might as well keep dancing if you're not gonna run”**  
It's over as soon as it had started. His heart is pounding so hard he can hear it in his ears. He did his best, but was it enough? Looking for clues, he watches as the judges converse quietly with each other. He can make no discernible conclusions. There are head shakes and nods here and there, but nothing that would tell him if he made it or not. 

The waiting. It was eating away at him. 

Jean brings the microphone to his lips, “Congratulations...”

This is it. Marco closes his eyes and holds his breath. 

“And the final spot goes to...”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The moment has come and gone, but did Marco make it? Will his dreams finally be realized? Or does "Hot Cocoa" get to live to see another day? Find out more in Chapter 4! Coming soon!
> 
> Oh yes! Time to update the playlist:
> 
> Track 01: "Applause" by Lady GaGa (chap. 1)  
> Track 02: "Turn Me On" by David Guetta feat. Nicki Minaj (chap. 1)  
> Track 03: "Can't You See" by Total feat. Notorious B.I.G. (chap. 2)  
> Track 04: "Human Nature" by Madonna (chap. 2)  
> Track 05: "Dance of Die" by Janelle Monae feat. Saul Williams (chap. 3)


	4. Someone Has to be the Adult

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Someone has to be the adult. May as well be Marco and Ymir.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for being so late with this update! I intended to put it up yesterday, but I didn't want people to this I was messing with them because of April Fools (which, I did a stupid April Fools chapter in case anyone wants to read it. You can find it [here!](http://enjouji.tumblr.com/post/81408957032/lemonorangelime-replied-to-your-post-so-do-i).
> 
> As always, big, massive thank yous to [Lemonorangelime](http://lemonorangelime.tumblr.com) and [Laurel](http://la-la-la-laurel.tumblr.com) for being awesome beta readers and editors! <3! You guys are the best!!! *hugs!!!* 
> 
> This chapter is a little different than what I originally planned. Or rather, the events I wanted to happen in chapter 4 are being moved to chapter 5. Things that happen in the chapter were a little longer than I anticipated and I stopped it at where I thought sounded best. I hope you enjoy it as much as I enjoyed writing it! ^^
> 
> And thank you to everyone for your continued support and compliments! Wow , I am super touched. You guys make me so happy that I decided to write this, and I get so pumped writing a new chapter every time. *hugs to all!* Thank you all for being so lovely!

“Hey! Hey you!” 

Jean has just about had it with everything today. All he planned to do after auditions were finalized was to take a piss and then crash in his hotel room for a day. Not deal with the outcry of a dancer with too much ego about why cutting them was a mistake. He looks over his shoulder with a frown ready for the owner of the booming voice coming from down the hallway. 

“I got a name, ya know!” Jean growls. To his surprise, it wasn't a reject. It was someone who made the top 20 that he chose. He turns to face the guy with a questionable look. He somehow remembers his name from his application. “It's Eren, right?” Jean turns his nose up at him, eyebrow raised, and a smirk on his lips, “What is it, Eren?”

An angry Eren stops at just arms length away from Jean.“You gotta problem with my friend?”

“Who?”

“Marco. Marco Bodt! He was in the final performance. We both know he's 10 times better than all of us combined. So why? Why didn't you pick him?!” 

“I'm sorry. I didn't know you were on the judging panel. I'll be sure to clue you in next time.” Jean turns to continue on his way. He waves a hand in a peace-out gesture, “See ya!”

“I'm not done with you!” Mikasa and Armin reach Eren right as he is about to launch himself at Jean. Connie and Sasha aren't too far behind them. 

“Eren, stop it. You'll make things worse,” Mikasa says flatly while holding him back.

Armin moves in front of Eren, trying to block his view of Jean, “Let it go, Eren. It's not worth it.”

Eren squirms out of Mikasa's hold, still pissed with the situation. “It's not fair. Out of all of us, Marco is the one that deserves to be here. And they pick that Daz guy. He's not even that good.”

Armin's eyes fall to the floor. He agrees with Eren, but he isn't sure what to say or do. He tries to change the subject a little, “We should go find Marco. If anything, he's going to need our support.”

Eren gives in despite the urge to go find that Jean and give him a piece of his mind. Or his fist.

They all retreat, but Armin stops in his tracks after a few steps. There's something he needs to do, “Hey guys! I'll catch up with you in a bit.” 

He reverses his direction and darts down the hallway.

Eren calls out to him, “Where are you going?!”

“I'll be right back!” Armin doesn't stop for an explanation as his zips around a corner he's pretty sure Jean disappeared to. He catches a glimpse of a set of the building's exit doors closing someone just went through. He took it as an indicator that Jean would be right outside those doors. 

Armin rushes through the doors shouting, “Mr. Kirschtein!!!”

“Oh for the love of-” Jean wheels around to face Armin with a piercing glare. “This better be fucking important. Otherwise all of you can join your 'Marco' friend!” 

“I-Uh... Umm...” he hesitates, going over the words in his mind before he speaks. “There's something I'd like to ask you...”

-~*~-~*~-~*~-~*~-~*~-~*~-~*~-~*~-~*~-~*~-~*~-~*~-~*~-~*~-~*~-~*~-~*~-~*~-~*~-~*~-~*~-~

Marco stares up at the ceiling, the soft buzz of the fluorescent lights is the only sound breaking the silence. He's found a bit of solace in the locker room of the dance studio. For the most part, everyone has gone home by now, giving him time to reflect. 

_”Hot Cocoa” lives to see another day._

He lets out a long, soft sigh and closes his eyes. Throughout his dance career, he's met with disappointment time after time. He knows the drill. That's just how things are going to go sometimes. He never put any expectations into any of his auditions. He would give them 110% and would hope for the best outcome.

 _But just this once._ This one time, he had so much hope for this audition. This was his dream. He gave it his 210% with losing sleep, dancing until his legs gave out from under him, watching recordings of himself to figure out what he could do better... And yet, it wasn't enough. 

Whether Jean remembers him or not remains unclear. He would hope that Jean would put his differences aside and look at him from a professional stand-point. 

_And if he did... what then? What was I missing?_

The sound of the door opening breaks his train of thoughts. Connie's head pokes in through the door, “Marco? You in- oh! You are! Hey guys! I found him!”

They all pile into the room, not even bothering to check to see if anyone else besides Marco was occupying the place. They congregate around Marco, Sasha coming to his side to pull him into a tight hug, “You OK, Marco?” 

“Yeah, I'm alright.” He feels like a broken record at this point. Being a natural leader, he doesn't want to bring morale down with his problems. He prefers to deal with them on his own. Instead, he smiles, genuinely happy that everyone has made it through. He knew they could do it. “You guys were amazing. I'm super proud of you. All of you. I couldn't have asked for a greater crew.”

“But... it doesn't feel right. You should be there with us. You _need_ to be there with us,” Sasha rests her head on his shoulder, disheartened that Marco wouldn't be there for the team's biggest accomplishment, “It just won't be the same.”

“With or without me, you all will be fantastic,” Marco places a hand on her shoulder, hugging her gently. He glances at everyone's sullen faces and Mikasa. Rarely has he ever seen her face move from a blank state. “OK guys, that's enough of the sadness. There'll be more opportunities later down the road.”

Sasha forces a little smile,“We're going to be on tour for like, a year. What are you gonna do?” 

“Well, 'Cocoa' is going to just have to stick around for a little bit longer. It's still a bit chilly out, so people will still come by for a cup,” he laughs at his own horrible joke. Sasha elbows him in the ribs gently, shaking her head.

“You're horrible.”

“Really? I thought I was 'Hot'!”

“Oh my God, how are we friends?!”

Finally, the gloom of the room dissipates, filling with laughs between them.

“Marco's right,” Connie starts. An idea hits him, “He guys! Let's say we all celebrate tonight. Anyone up for clubbin' down in Trost? Bert's DJin' at 'The Breach'. Which means Reiner will be at the door... sooooo...” 

“No cover charge. No wait.” Sasha likes where this is going.

“What do you think, Marco?” Eren is all in for it, but not if Marco passes.

Marco snorts with an ever-present smile, “Well, YEAH! Why would I ever say 'no'?!”

And there was much rejoicing. The crew piles in on Marco for a big group hug. The group begins making plans about where to meet up later along with times. Sasha, of course, makes damn sure they part take in dinner before heading to the club. 

_This.. this is a good thing. It'll take my mind off everything._

A realization pops into Marco's head, “Hey. Where's Armin?”

“I dunno. After we ran into-” Eren stops himself when his eyes meet Mikasa's. She shakes her head lightly, signaling him to stop. He retracts his statement, “He said he had something to do and that he'll catch up. Guess we should text him.”

“Done.” Well at least Mikasa was on top of it.

And as if on cue, Armin pops his head through the door.

“There you are. Where did you go?” Marco asks curiously.

“Oh, nowhere important, really.” Armin avoids the topic, replacing it with his own, “I heard cheering. That's good, right?”

Connie attaches himself to one side of Armin, “Hella! 3DMGroove is hittin' up The Breach!” 

“Ahh... well I-”

Sasha cuts Armin off by attacking his other side, “See you at 8!”

“And don't be late!” Connie adds, exchanging a smug grin with Sasha.

“OK! OK! I got it!” Armin ducks down between the two and takes a few steps back to escape their clutches. 

Sasha and Connie lean in, clasping their free hands together. They waltz their way towards the door. Connie spins her out, both with their arms stretched wide. Starting from his free hand, he sends a wave rippling out along his arms to Sasha, who finishes it out with her hand clutching the door handle. 

“And with that, we're out. See you guys later!” Sasha beams as the dynamic duo make their dramatic exit.

“They're going out, right?” Marco turns to the rest of the group for answers. They all offer a shrug. 

Mikasa thinks they should all follow suit, “We should all probably go too.”

“Yeah, because we all know how long you take to get ready.” Eren gets nothing but an unbroken stare from Mikasa. “Let's go.”

They all make their way towards the exit of the building. When Marco steps outside, he feels a little bit relieved. As if a heavy weight lifts itself off his shoulders the further away he moves from a place of mishap.

Mikasa and Eren are in a discussion about calling their parents to let them know about how the auditions went. Armin seizes the moment to talk to Marco with little interruption, which, seemed like everyone's favorite game with him.

“Marco... about earlier...”

-~*~-~*~-~*~-~*~-~*~-~*~-~*~-~*~-~*~-~*~-~*~-~*~-~*~-~*~-~*~-~*~-~*~-~*~-~*~-~*~-~*~-~

“Wahhhh!!!” Krista makes a dive head first into the hotel's King-sized bed that dwarfs her tiny frame. “'Mm so tired...” she muffles into her pillow.

Ymir takes a seat at the edge of the bed next to Krista, “How can you be tired? All you had to do was say 'yes' or 'no' all day. It's pretty easy to weed out the weak ones.” She pets Krista's blonde locks soothingly.

Krista snuggles her pillow closer and turns her head sideways to look at Ymir, “Not true! Watching so many dancers very carefully, making tough decisions, and telling people 'no' is harrrrd! They were all so goooooood. I hate seeing so many people being let down. Owww!”

Ymir gives Krista's cheek a small pinch, “Life isn't always sunshine and rainbows, ya know.”

“I know...” she rubs her cheek gently. “I just want everyone to be happy.”

Ymir lets out a light snort, “Always wanting to carry the entire world on your shoulders. You'll hurt yourself.”

Krista flips onto her back, looking at Ymir, “Yeah... but... even if it doesn't always work out...” Krista smiles warmly at Ymir, “...it's worth the ones that do.”

Ymir exchanges a knowing smile, “Do you ever regret it?”

“Never.”

Ymir places her hands on either side of Krista's face to brace herself as she slowly moves in, stopping just a few inches away from her. She looks into Krista's eyes with her own half-lidded ones, “Good.” She closes her eyes and parts her lips.

**“KNOCK! KNOCK! KNOCK!”**

Krista becomes startled by the sudden rapping at the door. An irritated noise of disapproval escapes Ymir's lips. She gets up, announcing her frustration to the unwanted guest, “This better be important!”

“You think I want to be here? Open up,” the voice answers back. 

The voice seems to make Ymir slightly more aggravated as her hand reaches for the door knob and yanks it open, “What?”

Jean stands there with just as much enthusiasm as Ymir. In one arm he carries what looks like several applications from the audition, “You heard, right?”

“About the dropout? So what? We got enough alternates to cover us.” 

Not even offering a goodbye, Ymir tries to shut the door. Jean deflects her attempt using his arm and foot to keep it slightly ajar. “Yeah, try telling that to the 'Captain'. You know how he wants everything to be perfect and organized.” 

She begrudgingly lets him in. He takes refuge on the bed, falling backwards onto it, lacking Krista's grace. Krista becomes a little airborne when his weight hits the mattress, giggling like she's five again. The stack of applications fan out on the bed next to Jean.

Ymir kicks at his shins as a sign for him to move over. She sits and starts looking through the applications. “Shouldn't this be your job?” Ymir asks with annoyance in her voice. Krista pads her way over to Ymir, peeking over her shoulder. 

“It's a group effort. Though I really don't care anymore.”

“Aww, Jean. Don't say that. You love dancing!”

He rolls onto his side away from Krista without a reply.

“Are you still moping?” Ymir badgers more than she shows concern.

“Just pick someone. Any one of them will do.”

Krista begins picking up some of the applications, making thoughtful noises... followed by a defeated sound, “I just don't know who to pick.” She falls dramatically perpendicular to Jean, hand over her eyes. 

“You two need to get a grip,” Ymir scolds.

“Can't we just relax for a while? We've been working nonstop since like... _forever_!” Krista whines.

Ymir facepalms. Someone needed to be an adult, but Krista had a point. Even she couldn't remember the last time they all just relaxed and had some fun. Except maybe Jean, but he probably just gave himself more stress instead of unwinding the previous night. “OK, OK. You win. How about we go out tonight. Just the three of us?”

“Yaaaaaaaaay!!!” Krista springs up with a cheer.

“Pass,” Jean answers as sourly as his mood. He brings a hand up to the bruise under his eye. Silently conveying his reason to stay in. 

“Jeaaannnn!” Krista furiously shakes him, “You have to come! You're not going to let two defenseless girls out on the town by themselves, are you?” 

“Wow. Way to set us back another 100 years, Krista.”

Krista shrugs. Her excuse being it was the only argument she could think of to get Jean up. And with that she had to move to plan B: Begging, “Please Jeaaaaaannnn!!! It won't be fun without you!”

“Speak for yourself,” Ymir retorts.

Jean sits up and lets out a reluctant sigh, “Where do you want to go?”

“Thank you, Jean!!!” she hugs him so tightly, she squeezes a breath out of him.

“Let's go somewhere outside of the city. I heard there's a really bumpin' place in Trost. We can see what all the hype is about.” Ymir suggests.

“Haven't we seen enough bad dancing today?” Jean argues.

“You know, you're one to talk. You've been slacking off lately,” Ymir counters. “Maybe this place will knock you off your high horse and you'll find your groove on the way down.” 

“Geez, what is this? 'Let's pick on Jean' week?” 

Krista tries to diffuse the negative air, “What's the place called?”

Ymir smiles, “The Breach.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Who is ready for some good vibes and times at "The Breach"?! That's what 3DMGroove WAS looking forward to. But they might be getting more than what they were looking for. And what even happened between Armin and Jean? Is "Hot Cocoa" really the only thing Marco has to look forward to anymore? FInd out more in the next chapter, "The Battle at Trost".
> 
> Thank you all for reading! Chapter 5 is already underway! Stay tuned! :D


	5. The Battle at Trost

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 3DMGroove plan an evening of good times with friends and dancing the night away before the crew takes off for a year, leaving their trusty leader, Marco behind. But they're not the only ones...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's here! The newest chapter is finally here! 
> 
> I'm incredibly sorry taking so long to update, but I hope the wait was worth it. ^^ Many thanks to [Laurel](http://la-la-la-laurel.tumblr.com/) and [Greenalms](http://greenalms.tumblr.com) for helping me out with edits! *hugs to both*
> 
> I hope you guys like this chapter! This was a lot of fun to write. Thank you all to everyone who have been waiting patiently for the new chapter and sending me sweet and encouraging messages!!! You guys are awesome!!! *hugs to all!* I hope it was worth the wait. :D
> 
> Here's to a quicker update for chapter 6! ^^

Marco hadn't been kidding when he'd said it was still a bit chilly out. Spring hasn't quite kicked in, so the nights still get cold. He huddles close to the Shiganshina trio outside the club while they wait for the rest of their crew to show up. 

“Sounds like Bert is really into it tonight,” Marco surmises. Even though they were outside, the music is bumpin' and flowin' high enough to be heard miles away.

The Breach is definitely the place everyone wants to be. And with a line that wraps around the building, Marco wouldn't be surprised if the entire Trost population _is_ here tonight.

“Ah! There they are!” Armin spots Connie and Sasha making their way towards the club and waves them over. “What took you guys? I thought we all left the restaurant at the same time.”

“Yeah, sorry about that. Someone _had_ to stop for a 2nd dessert,” Connie explains with only just a hint of sarcasm.

“Don't act like you didn't want some of my milkshake,” Sasha sasses, dabbing a bit of her strawberry milkshake onto Connie's nose with her finger. 

“Ahhh! Rude!” Connie wipes at the smudge vigorously while everyone laughs at his expense. 

Marco takes a mental head count, making sure everyone is accounted for. They all dress to impress, which is exactly what they plan on doing at the club. “Well, shall we?” Marco leads the way. 

As suspected, Reiner is keeping guard at the red velvet, roped door. Eren makes his way up to the front, calling out to their boulder of a friend, “A-yo! Reiner! What's up, man?”

“JaegerBOMB!” he greets Eren by his B-boy name and the pair exchange an exploding fist bump.

“Bert's on deck, right?”

“All night.”

“Cool. Cool... Soooo... how long is the wait?”

“For you?” Reiner examines Eren with a hand rubbing his chin and a quirked brow, “2 hours.”

“What?!”

“You're being played, Eren.” Who knew Mikasa was capable of slang?

Reiner chuckles, “Relax, Jaeger. The patrons are lacking a bit in the rhythm department. Most are here just to be seen. Go show 'em how it's done.” Reiner unchains the velvet rope, opening the pathway to an oasis away from the real world for the night.

The crew gets a few glares from the people in line. It doesn't bother them too much since the looks are from a lot of hipsters anyway. The regulars know who they are and let it slide. Who wants to go to a dance club where the dance floor is a barren wasteland of stiffs?

Still, Marco feels bad cutting in front of people. “Thank you, Reiner. How much do I owe you?”

“Hey, none of that. We're bros. I got you!” He punches Marco “lightly” on the shoulder, enough to make him stumble a bit.

“I really do appreciate it.” Marco smiles. It really should just be his default expression at all times.

“So, are you OK? I got word things didn't go so well today,” Reiner inquires with concern.

_This again._

Marco releases a timid laugh. He's so grateful to have such caring friends. “Yeah, I'm good. I mean, this won't be the _last_ audition I'll ever bomb. I'll just try again next time.”

“It didn't have anything to do with that creep from last night, did it? I went easy on his ass. Maybe too easy.”

Marco laughs more nervously. He remembers seeing a small bruise under one of Jean's eyes. 

“I've never seen you take off in the middle of a job like that. What did he do?”

Marco's smile falters a bit. His eyes drift away from Reiner's as he scratches gently at his right cheek, “It's nothing. He just did what most customers try to do to get a little extra service. He didn't get very far, trust me.” 

“Oh, I do,” Reiner acknowledges by tugging a little on his shirt collar to drive the point. “But was that all?”

 _“I thought this was part of your job.”_

_“I'm sure you've done this before.”_

_“So what's it gonna take to get a piece?”_

The words ring through his head. They hurt no matter how much he knew they weren't true. Normally it wouldn't matter if it was a complete stranger, but the fact that this stranger ended up being someone he truly admired really affected him. 

He doesn't want to think about it. Not now. Not when the point of coming out is to have a good time with friends. To his relief, Reiner catches on. He places a comforting hand on Marco's shoulder. “Marco. If you don't wanna talk about it, don't stress out over it. Just remember, I'm here for you, bro. Bertl is too.”

Marco lets out a gentle chuckle. Reiner may look rough and tough on the outside, but he truly is a big ole teddy bear inside. “Thanks, Reiner. I know I can count on you guys when I need it.”

“Though seriously, I will kick his ass if you need me to.”

Marco raises his palms up in front of him, politely refusing Reiner's offer, “That's really not necessary, but thank you.”

“Well? Get in there! The party don't start 'til you walk in.”

“Thanks, Reiner! Let's grab a bite next week!” Marco waves to Reiner as he heads in, looking for his friends. 

The place definitely lives up to the hype it garners. Edgy and linear by design. An upper and lower level divide those who wish to lounge about and those who wish to dance the night away. People flock to the massive bar, holding hostage four bartenders serving tantalizing drinks in cups armed with neon lights in their base. Comfortable leather seating decorates the edges along the club, making for areas to get nice and cozy with a date or chill with your favorite colleagues. All dimly lit with cool hues for a relaxed vibe. 

Marco spots the mix master of the night, DJ Colossal, or as his friends know him, Bertholdt. His head peaks over a wall comprised of speakers, completely in tune with the sounds that enslave every being into a rhythmic trance. 

Overhead, Marco feels a million eyes looking down upon him. And why wouldn't they? From their point of view, they have the best view in the house. The dance floor. The lights flicker in an array of bright colors, shapes, and speeds falling in sync with the beat; gyrating bodies dancing with them. 

Amongst the army of party-goers, Marco catches a glimpse of Connie and Sasha and makes his way over to a high-top table they managed to hijack. “Wow! Nice work, guys! How'd you snag a table?” he asks as he takes a seat.

Connie polishes the nails of one hand against his stylish collared shirt. “I have my ways.”

“He means he just happened to find it open,” Sasha clarifies with an impish grin.

“Hey! Can't a guy bask in his glory?”

Sasha rolls her eyes and turns her attention to Marco. “Eren and the others went to get a round of shots,” she informs him.

“And here they come now,” Marco gestures behind her.

Armin, Eren, and Mikasa make their way over to the group with a shot glass in each hand as they all huddle around the table.

Marco gasps jokingly at Eren, “No Jaeger Bomb tonight, Eren?”

“Hey, no rush! The night is young. Besides, we're celebrating. What better way to celebrate than with cake?”

Sasha's ears perk up and her eyes widen with excitement. “Cake? Where?!”

Connie facepalms, “He means 'cake shots', Sash.”

“I knew that.”

It was now Connie's turn to roll his eyes.

Marco raises his glass, “Here's to you guys!”

“And _YOU_!” Eren nudges. 

Marco gives a bashful smile, turning his head away. “Cheers, everyone!”

“CHEERS!” Glasses clink together in a toast. In union, their shot glasses hit the table before they all toss back their drinks and set them back down on the table. 

Sasha's body shivers as the burning cake shot flows down her esophagus. Connie and Eren express their satisfaction with a round of explosive cheers. Mikasa remains calm and collected as if alcohol has no effect on her, but Marco is pretty sure he sees a warm blush paint her cheeks. 

Marco's nose wrinkles and his smile becomes a little twisted as he becomes giddy from the tingling sensation down his throat. He checks on Armin, who is not known for being a drinker. “How was it?”

One side of Armin's mouth curls up into a grin. He shakes his glass like a scientist examining a test tube, “There's really not much to water. So... boring? I'm the DD tonight anyway, so it's no big loss for me.”

“This will probably be my only one tonight anyway,” Marco says with a light laugh. He diverts his attention to the entire squad, “OK! Who's ready to groove?!”

 **“Now's the time for you to make your move to the dance floor.”** They slip in through the sea of swaying bodies. Reiner was right. The patrons needed to be shaken up out of their comatose state. It's time for 3DMGroove to bring in the tidal waves and crash the calm waters.

This is exactly what Marco needed to take his mind off everything. There is nothing like letting the music take control of every fiber of his being. Every worry washes away, drowning into the tempo. The dance floor is where he feels at peace. It's perfect, especially being in great company.

“Ooof! Hey! Watch it!”

Well, almost perfect. “I'm so sorry!” Marco turns to apologize to the figure he bumped into, only to be greeted with a pair of fierce amber eyes and a wicked smile.

“Well, well. So nice to see you, Marco.” Hitch crosses her arms over her chest proudly, “Out celebrating your loss?”

He has all the patience in the world, but for Hitch, it's starting to thin out to a breaking point. He came to the club wanting nothing more than time to just relax and enjoy being out with friends. He'll be damned if Hitch is going to rain on his parade. “My apologies, Hitch. And congratulations on making Krista's dance team. Now, if you'll excuse me.” 

“Aww, sweetie. Don't be like that. I'm just here to have fun!” 

The comment takes Marco off-guard. Maybe her getting a dream job has improved her attitude towards him.

“Besides, this is probably the last time I'll see you before I go tour with your friends. A shame you weren't good enough to make it.”

 **“Now let me see you go back and forth. Back and Forth.”**  
OK, scratch that. It didn't do a damn thing for her character. “Hitch, what exactly do you want from me?” 

“For starters, you can tell me how much better I am than you.”

“Better than _him_? Don't even!” Enter B-Girl Sasha FEARse. “Just 'cause you got in, doesn't mean you're automatically better than everyone.”

Hitch gives Sasha the once over and snorts, “You have a point. I mean, they let _you_ in.”

“Oh, you wanna have a go?” Sasha snarls as she starts advancing towards Hitch. Connie circles his arms around her waist in a bear hug to restrain her, “Come on! Let's settle this now!”

Much to Marco's dismay, the problem is escalating. Even the crowd in their immediate vicinity starts to take notice of the heated exchange between B-Girls, Sasha FEARse and Hitch Perfect.

“OK, stop!” Marco is becoming a very exhausted mediator.

“How 'bout it, Marco? Why don't we settle this once and for all?” Hitch proposes. “Not with fists, though.” Her judging eyes fall on Sasha, “I'm not tacky like some people.”

 **“Back, back. Forth and forth.”**  
Marco ponders the thought briefly. He knew playing peacekeeper all the time wasn't going to solve anything. Marco answers with a determined smile, “You're on.”

3DMGroove Vs. The MP Brigade. It was so on.

Hitch stretches her arms over her head and then out in front of her. Knuckles and joints crack, and she swishes her short, curly hair around. A fiendish grin matches her narrowed glare made just for Marco. She doesn't even need to look over her shoulder at Marlowe and Boris when she gives the command, “You know the drill.” 

Marlowe and Boris acknowledge her orders. The Brigade begins a series of top rocking moves, clearing the field of innocent bystanders. 

With a simple nod from Marco, Connie and Sasha radiate with excitement. They have their own way of purging the area. Taking a deep inhale before alarming those around them, “BATTLLLLLLLLLLLE!” 

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“Man, I hope this line isn't for the bathroom. Then I'd be pissed,” Ymir jokes. Pun very much intended.

They haven't even been there for more than five minutes and Jean is already protesting, “Can't we just go somewhere else? We're never gonna get in.”

Ymir smiles proudly with a counter response, “You forget you're with a VIP, Jean,”

“Yeah, except our VIP is a little... overdressed?” 

Between them is a fashionably dressed, young, adorable, 4'9” girl with long, wavy pink hair and large round sunglasses to cover her eyes. A floppy red beanie sits on top of the pink mess of synthetic fibers. It's the perfect disguise for one Krista Reiss. 

“Who's gonna recognize her in this getup?” asks an annoyed Jean. 

“No one, dumbass. It's kinda the point of a disguise,” Ymir mocks. She checks over Krista's disguise, making sure she's in order and straightens her pink wig one last time. 

“OK then, who's this VIP that's going to get us in?”

“Me, of course,” Ymir smiles smugly.

“Huh?!” Jean's confusion overrides his annoyance.

“Ymir and the bouncer are childhood friends!” Krista happily answers.

“I told him we're in town and he said to stop by when he was working. Today's our lucky day.” Ymir grins and points to a very intimidating, muscle-bound Reiner standing guard at the door.

Jean eyes go wide, recognizing that blonde-haired Hulk from a mile away, “Fuck, I can't go in there!”

“Why?” Ymir furrows her brows.

“That's the same guy who gave me this!” Jean points to where the bruise on his face would be if it hadn't been for the glorious powers of concealer to hide it.

“Wow, you must've really fucked up to get Reiner mad. Dude's pretty much a teddy bear.”

“I'm going back to the hotel.”

“Oh, stop being a baby,” Ymir scolds. She removes Krista's beanie and practically forces it over Jean's head.

“Hey! Watch the hair!”

“Just shut up and let me do the talking. And put your shades on.”

“I don't wanna look like a douche.”

If she hadn't said it before, her face is now screaming “Seriously?” at Jean. She shakes her head and makes her way to the entrance, toting a pink-haired Krista close behind her. 

When they get into earshot, Ymir calls out, “Reiner!” 

“Ymir! Long time no see!” Reiner yells back and waves her over.

“Good to see you!” she gives Reiner a quick hug. She's not one for much bodily contact unless it's Krista. Speaking of, Ymir slides an arm around her shoulders, pulling Krista in closer to introduce her to Reiner, “This is my beautiful girlfriend, _'Historia'_.” 

“Historia” wears her purest smile. Any time Ymir refers to her as “Historia” instead of her stage name is a special moment. If it was someone that Ymir was close to, she would want them to know the love of her life as who she really is. Not as the star that everyone else knows. 

“ _'Historia'_! It's an honor. I am a _huge_ fan!” Reiner greets with face splitting smile.

“Oh! Thank you very much!” Historia beams like a ray of sunshine.

“And might I say, you look stunning this evening. If Ymir hadn't taken you, I'd marry you in a heartbeat!”

Historia blushes and laughs a little nervously.

Ymir casually places her hands on Historia's shoulders and shifts her a foot away from Reiner. “Alright, easy there, tiger. Bertl's not that far away, you know.” 

“Relax, I'm only kidding. Bertl and I are in for the long run,” he reassures Ymir. Jean is so sure he is in the clear until Reiner speaks up again, “And who's this?”

“This is _'Gene'_. Don't mind him though. He's really just an errand boy sent to protect us or whatever. You know the drill.”

“Not really intimidating, is he? A fly could probably take him.” If it weren't for his shades, Reiner would have been covered in daggers from his icy glare. Reiner must have noticed something odd about Jean though, “Haven't I seen you somewhere before?”

“Uhhh...” Jean grows cold thinking the jig is up. 

Reiner's interrogation comes to an abrupt halt when an alarm siren blares from within the club.

“What's going on?” Ymir looks at the doors curiously.

Reiner let's out a knowing laugh, “Sounds like a battle is about to begin. If it's Marco's crew, you're in for a treat. Head on in. Second floor has the best view.”

“Thanks! We'll catch up later before work gets hectic.” 

“It's so nice to meet you, Reiner. Let's all have lunch together!” Historia happily invites.

“It's a pleasure to meet _you_! Lunch sounds wonderful!” Reiner wears what Ymir would dub the goofiest and dumbest grin she'd ever seen. 

“Yeah, yeah. Lunch. Whatever. Let's go, Historia. _Geneee!_ ” Ymir ushers them in quickly. Jean keeps his head as low to the ground as possible to avoid raising any more suspicion.

Reiner's eyes follow Jean as he disappears behind the doors. He shakes his head, “Weird guy.”

-~*~-~*~-~*~-~*~-~*~-~*~-~*~-~*~-~*~-~*~-~*~-~*~-~*~-~*~-~*~-~*~-~*~-~*~-~*~-~*~-~*~-~

 **“Ladies and Gentlemen. You already know what it is!”**  
All eyes look on in anticipation as the opposing forces stare each other down, neither willing to be intimidated by the other. Their faithful leaders circle each other in the middle of a barren dance floor, sizing up one another. Slowly, they close in on each other as if they're locked into a dangerous tango.

“Ladies first,” Marco offers ever so politely.

“So eager to lose twice today, aren't you,” Hitch jabs. 

“Don't count your chickens before they hatch, Hitch.” No more Mister Nice Guy as B-Boy Ro-BODT-Tic comes out to play.

Excusing himself, Marco regroups with his team on the sidelines. He drops to one knee and politely waits for their turn. Hitch takes a a few steps back, standing strong and commanding. She lifts her arms, keeping her elbows bent. Her hands motion Marlowe and Boris into their positions, readying their first attack.

 **“I was tryin' to enjoy my night, but you done came in.”**  
A pulse surges through Hitch's body as she curls her body in and rapidly back out. Her arms snap into a position straight out to her sides. 

At first, it doesn't appear that she really does a whole lot except moving her arms and bouncing on her hips from side to side... Until you notice the boys are working together with her, creating a motion picture. They move in robotic pop-and-locks that give the illusion that they are puppets being controlled by Hitch's every movement. 

With a small hand gesture, Marco signals the Shiganshina trio to be on their marks. 

**“Now we got inna fight, I'ma knock out ya lights!”**  
Hitch rocks her body to the left and right while stepping backwards. She rotates her fists in a winding motion, reeling the boys in. They crouch down before blasting out towards 3DMGroove, invading their space, daring them to lose their cool. They stand their ground, unwilling to be moved by their childish threat. 

**“Dope little lady tryin' to hold you back you better listen to her!”**  
Or at least they are until Boris rolls out a taunt that insinuates Eren's sister should blow him in his personal bubble. Eren attempts to reach out for any part of Boris he could grasp, but Mikasa's iron fist clenches tightly to Eren's shirt collar, keeping him at bay as Boris glides backwards out of harm's way. 

“Calm down,” Marco instructs. “Stay on target, JaegerBOMB,” he adds, hoping to get Eren to refocus his anger into the real battle. 

Hitch bends forward and makes her way backwards with a flirty jive in her steps. She keeps her arms in front of her, hands inviting Marco to step up to the plate as her gang finishes their warm-up round. Moving her right hand to rest on her hip, she whips up and around with her left hand snapping behind her as she saunters off the field.

3DMG launches into their first round with Marco at the helm. He glides in smoothly into the middle of the floor like he's floating on air, sliding a leg out in front of him as he descends to his knees. Eren and Armin explode out from the sides like sparks as Mikasa radiates from the center with a string of powerful but lyrical moves. 

They work together and make use of their levels. Marco sticks to the ground, unleashing an array of swift floor rocking moves while the others move together like an electric current made of energetic hip-hop grooves. It's only the first round, but their charisma is galvanizing as the crowds flare up with excitement that transmits through the roof of the club. None of which goes unnoticed by a curious triad observing over the balcony of the second floor.

“Ymir! Ymir! Look! Aren't they amazing?!” Historia bubbles with astonishment. She can barely contain herself. Ymir pries her off the railing, saving her from an untimely end brought upon by a case of “wanting a closer look”. 

Ymir holds onto her protectively and peers over the edge at the ongoing battle. “Sure are. And they better be. Those are all the dancers we hired today.”

“Ahh! But... That guy in the middle. He didn't make it through, right? He's incredible!” Historia carries on in wonderment. A thought comes to mind as she gasps, “Ymir! Can't we pick him for the replacement?! Please?!”

Her eyes plead with Ymir's over the top rim of her mint green glasses. Ymir just can't go against those sparkling blue eyes that make her heart melt. It cripples her, though she would never let on to Historia how much she's pretty much turning into goo inside. “Works for me. Jean?” 

No answer.

“Uh... Jeaaaannn?” Ymir practically sings.

His hands grasp tightly onto the railing, his attention completely fixating on Marco. He takes in every move and subtle detail. The only thing that could possibly qualify as an answer to Ymir is an ear-to-ear smirk plastered on his face.

Ymir quirks an eyebrow at what she classifies as his creepy face. “God, you're weird,” she says as she returns her focus back to the action happening just below.

The ping pong battle of the dancers rages on, both sides trying to up the ante in each round. It was no competition when Sasha FEARse and The ConArtist were up against Marlowe and Boris. No amount of technique could compare to the chemistry between Sasha and Connie.

It all comes down to the final dance-off. Which team will reign supreme?! The Brigade pulls out all the stops for this final round, stomping their feet and pumping their fists, their dances becoming more aggressive as the beat progresses. 

When spectators think that is all the MP Brigade has left, B-Girl Crystal-EYEZ takes center stage. No one has ever suspected that quiet and sullen Annie to be a blazing tricker with aerial moves that could make overly computer-generated stunts look like child's play. 

Connie's eyes widen, daunted by her acrobatic display. He nudges Marco, “We can't top that!” 

Marco looks over at Connie, seeing the nervousness slowly overtaking him. “Don't give up! It's not over yet!” Marco encourages. He has to come up with a plan.

_What to do? What to do? Wait, I got it!_

Marco bends backwards a little, trying for Eren's attention. “Psst! Eren!” he calls at a volume that he hopes Connie might not notice. When their eyes connect, Marco nods to Connie's hand and looks straight up, hoping Eren would understand what he was alluding to.

Eren's eyes follow the path that Marco made with his eyes. He picks up very quickly what Marco intends to do. He moves next to Connie, taking his hand into a firm grasp.

“Eren, what're you-”

Marco cuts him off as he takes his other hand tightly. “Remember that thing we've been practicing?”

“You guys can't be-”

“Ready?!” Eren asks as a warning shot.

In unison, they all bend their knees. “Set?!” Marco shouts, noticing Annie starting to clear off the floor.

“Waitholdonasecguys!” Connie begs.

 **“You think you cool, you think I'm not!”**  
On cue with the final chorus, the boys slingshot Connie straight up into the air. Any thoughts of panicking leave his body the more airborne he gets. Quickly, he performs a back flip in midair and positions himself into a suicide stance. It's a risky move and he prays to whatever deity that his trust is well-placed in the hands of his friends waiting down below. 

Bracing for impact, hands reach out and take a firm hold of his wrists and ankles just in time. A millisecond later and he would have been close friends with the ground. 

“Tuck and roll, Connie!” Marco cautions with extreme care.

Using the momentum, they swing him upright and propel him forwards. He curls into a tight ball, rotating a half-circle and he folds out into a scissor kick, landing in a Spiderman pose just a few feet away from the Brigade's territory. The cheers in the club amplify in volume, showing their appreciation of the extraordinary feat they all just witnessed.

This was definitely not the end for 3DMGroove.

He doesn't sit still for long, immediately falling into a back tumble and rolling up onto his hands. Walking on his hands, he moves into his next position. The trio quickly fall into a triangular formation, Marco races towards the front pulling on a beanie. Connie and Eren take up residence in the back corners and wait for the magic word.

“Break!” The command leaves Marco's lips and they slide in sync with each other, running through a routine they've practiced countless times. They rock the floor with their insane B-Boy breakin' tricks. Complicated transitions lace themselves in their intricate footwork. They shift from being upright to back down on the floor. The audience are their captives following every decision they make.

Everyone is convinced that they will all end on the same note. They couldn't be more wrong.

_Time to shine!_

Out of left field, Marco breaks out on his own, the others slowing down to force all eyes on Marco. Ro-BODT-tic brings the thunder and he brings it down hard. His pace accelerates as he prepares himself to bring the final fight to a dramatic end. 

He juggles between hands, spinning and turning his body over on the floor. Steadily, he eases from baby swipes into flares and busts out his dynamic windmills, blowing the crowds away. 

And he was only just getting started.

Windmills evolve into a mind blowing one-handed spin, riling up the crowd. His free hand comes down suddenly as he cuts straight into a freeze, his strength and balance mesmerizing the spectators. Marco twists his legs around to set off another string of spins. He takes everyone off-guard when he pushes himself straight up, leaving no trace of his body in contact with the floor. Alarmed gasps and screams fill the air, minds of onlookers jump to a worse case scenario as they watch Marco land straight onto his upper shoulders in horror. 

Was Marco crazy?! Surely he must have broken his neck!

He takes them all by surprise, accomplishing his death-defying maneuver. He bounces back up on his feet and goes right back into spins on his back. Faster and faster he moves in centripetal motion. With precise movement he switches his balance to the top of his head. 

The music is dying down, but the applause only amplifies with every swift turn Marco makes. His legs bending slowly and artfully at each pass. The club rumbles with stomps of approval, roaring cheers, and ear-piercing whistles. The song is over, but Marco keeps going. 

“AROUND AND AROUND HE GOES! WHEN HE STOPS, ONLY RO-BODT-TIC KNOOOOOWWWWSSS!!!” Bertholdt sings over the speakers.

His crew initiates a round of hypnotic claps and chants of “RO-BODT-TIC!”. Even with the crowds calling his name out in a mantra and a room spinning so fast that his vision is a complete blur, Marco finds himself in a zen state, trapped in deep concentration. 

If it weren't for the feeling of becoming light-headed, he would keep going for hours. Thinking it was time to bring this game of merry-go-round to a much needed end, he kicks his legs out, hopping right up onto his feet with a ground-shattering landing. His heart pounds heavy in his chest in time with his panting. Marco pulls off his beanie with one quick, smooth flick of his wrist. He brings the other hand to comb through his hair, slicking back his sweaty locks.

His eyes catch sight of angry amber eyes across from where he stands. It was clear who won this round.

High above all the organized chaos, Ymir lets an impressed whistle escape her lips. “Hmph! Well, Jean...” she begins without changing her focal point, “...looks like you were wrong earlier today about that one.” She waits for a response. 

When no snippy reply fires back, she turns her head only to find that his spot is replaced with a sloshed party-goer getting much too close to Historia for her comfort. Her face twitches and she growls her disapproval. “And where the fuck is Kirschstein?” she grumbles in her inside voice.

Marco makes the first move to speak, “It's over, Hitch.” He makes one last attempt to put all of this behind them, “Now can we please put this to rest?”

“You know what? Enjoy your puny little victory,” her voice stings with a hint of vitriol. She continues, “At the end of the day, I'm still at the top. The highest you can climb is to the top of a stripper pole.” She turns her back on him with a villainous grace, “Oh! And say 'hi' to Nile for me.” She leaves without another word. 

Her claws were out and sharp to a point that struck deeply into Marco's core. He feels a little bit more of himself slowly chipping away. He takes the deepest breath he can for hopefully the last time tonight. 

_Calm down, Marco. The day is pretty much done. It can't possibly sink any lower than this._

“So is this what 'Cocoa' does on his off days?” 

The sound of a very familiar voice cuts through him like a knife, relieving him of his air supply as he takes in a sharp gasp. Marco whips around at a speed that challenges his own head spins. The white of his eyes makes his pupils look smaller as his gaze finds the one person he was so sure he would never have to face again. At least after the _last_ time, he thought he would never see him again. 

Jean stands before him, hands hidden in his pockets and head tilted to the side in a curious way. A light smile plays on his lips. “Hello... Marco. Right?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another encounter with Jean Kirschstein? What is there left to say after all that's happened between them? Is Jean here to to make Marco's life easier, or just that more complicated? Can't Marco just catch a break?! Guess you'll have to wait and see! Stay tuned, dear readers! <3 
> 
> Thank you to everyone following along on this writing journey of mine. I'm really looking forward to chapter 6 as there is a scene I have been dying to write coming up! ^^ 
> 
> And now it's time for a tracklist update! :D
> 
> Track 01: "Applause" by Lady GaGa (chap. 1)  
> Track 02: "Turn Me On" by David Guetta feat. Nicki Minaj (chap. 1)  
> Track 03: "Can't You See" by Total feat. Notorious B.I.G. (chap. 2)  
> Track 04: "Human Nature" by Madonna (chap. 2)  
> Track 05: "Dance of Die" by Janelle Monae feat. Saul Williams (chap. 3)  
> Track 06: "Back and Forth" by Aaliyah (chap. 4)  
> Track 07: "Church" by T-Pain (chap. 4)


	6. Who Can I Run To?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The moment of truth. Why is Jean here? What else could he possibly have to say to Marco after everything he's put him through? Can't Marco catch a break?!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's finally here! After almost 3 months, chapter 6 is finally here!!! 
> 
> As always, big, massive thank yous to my new waifu [Lemonorangelime](http://lemonorangelime.tumblr.com) and the lovely [Laurel](http://la-la-la-laurel.tumblr.com) for always being the best damn beta readers/editors I could ask for on this silly fic of mine! <3<3<3
> 
> And I would like to give an extra huge thank you to [Kimievii](http://kimievii.tumblr.com) who answered the call of doing translations for me specifically for this chapter!!! THANK YOU SO MUCH! YOU ARE PHENOMENAL!!! (Note: Translations will be in the end notes!)
> 
> Please go visit these wonderful people and tell them how awesome they are!! 
> 
> I have been dying to write this chapter since I started this fic and I'm very happy to finally share it with you. Thank you to everyone who has been sending me kind notes here on AO3 and on tumblr with your kind and encouraging words! They mean so much to me and keep me from wanting to stop with writing. Thank you so much!!! <3 
> 
> So without further adieu... I present chapter 6. ENJOY!!! <3
> 
> Notes at the end of chapter!

The wheels spin in Marco's head of all the things he could respond with ranging anywhere between a polite and civil “Good evening”, feigning ignorance while walking away, or a simple “Fuck off”. 

Out of all of his options, he chooses a route that seems the most logical.

“Ahh...” Marco squeaks, his eyes locking with a familiar golden pair. 

“Yeah, I kinda have that effect on people,” Jean muses while quirking a brow with a lopsided grin. Realizing his quip does nothing to ease the tension between them, he clears his throat and puts on a serious face. He brings a hand up to rub the back of his neck and adverts his eyes. “Listen... uh... can we talk?”

Marco suddenly finds a voice within him and plenty of words to throw at him, “Mr. Kirschstein, with all due respect, I really don't think we have much left to say to each other. If this is about the lasso thing, I'll make sure you get a refund. But to be fair, you kinda had it coming. And-”

“Your friend Armin, he's a real selfless kinda guy, isn't he?” Jean interrupts.

The question halts Marco's thoughts dead in their tracks. He was so sure that Jean was going to bring up the incident. His mind switches gears; the conversation with Armin surfaces to the forefront of his mind. He drops his gaze, a sullen smile playing across his lips. “Yeah... he truly is.” 

Jean crosses his arms in his smarmy way. “To think he would give up the opportunity of a lifetime dancers would kill for. He won't survive in this world with fuck-ups like that,” he scoffs.

Marco frowns at his comment. “It was very chivalrous of him. I hardly see how that's a flaw. And thank you for not allowing him to give up.”

“Yeah, about that...” Jean's tone drops. “I still need a replacement.”

“What? Why? I thought you told him- Please don't tell me you've changed your mind!” 

“Huh? Well-NNRGGHHH!!!”

Fear had clouded Marco's mind that he barely had a chance to register a fuming Ymir rushing Jean from behind and puts him in a choke hold with one arm. It's not enough to cut off his air supply, but enough for him to figure out who is in charge. 

“Jean Kirschstein, you irresponsible asshole. I trusted you!” Ymir says in an irritated tone.

“Y-ymiiirr... the... heeellll?!” he squirmed.

“How dare you wonder off and leave sweet, innocent Historia opened to the wolves like that? I'll have your head for this.”

Right on her heels, Marco spots a pink-haired angel approaching them. She places a tender hand on Ymir's free arm, willing her to relinquish her hold on Jean. “Ymir, let him go. I'm _fine_! Please?”

Like a light switch, Ymir releases him, letting him scramble out of her reach like a cat getting away from a vicious dog. His head vigorously exchanges enraged glares between Ymir and Marco. “What the fuck is it with you people and your fucking choke holds?!” he shouts.

“You had it coming,” Ymir and Marco remark in surround sound unison. 

Jean's eye twitches as he rubs his throat, “It's the fucking freckles, isn't it?”

“Umm, excuse me?” a sweet voice pipes up behind Marco. 

“Yes?” Marco turns and lowers his eyes to Historia's level. “Oh! Hello there,” he smiles. 

“Hello!” she beams. “You may not recognize me, but we uh... kinda met earlier today.” She pulls down her sunglasses to wink at him with a brilliant smile.

Marco squints and moves in just a little to get a good look at her face. His eyes widen in realization, “You're Kri-”

“Shhhhh!!!”

It dawns on Marco to be a little more discreet about her identity. “S-sorry... uhhh...?”

“Historia! Nice to meet you!” she gleams.

“Ahh! Historia! I'm Marco. The pleasure is all mine. Wow! Sorry, I'm uh... I just never thought I'd get to meet you. I'm a big fan of your work! And gosh...” Marco's freckles disappear into his blush as he hesitantly laughs through his embarrassment.

“Same here!”

Marco is thrown by her statement. “Huh? Me? What do you mean?” 

“We saw the entire showdown from above,” Ymir interjects. “You were really rad out there, man. Which is why we came down to talk to you about joining the tour,” Her eyes catch a glimpse of a pouting Jean, whom she thumbs a gesture at, “Oh! And to pick up the trash.”

“I'm not _trash!_ ” Jean snarls. 

“Quiet, the adults are talking.” Ymir rolls her eyes and returns her attention to Marco, “Anyways, we had a dancer bow out of the line-up. And it's your lucky day! Welcome to the team!” She holds out a congratulatory hand to Marco. 

Instead, he leaves her hanging. “I'm sorry, but I can't accept this under the circumstances.”

“Can't accept? Are you fucking kiddin' me? I know Jean's a little rough around the edges, but I can totally kick his ass if you need me to.”

“ _Still here!_ ” Jean reminds her. 

“That's... not entirely the reason...” Marco casts his eyes downward and lightly scratches at his right cheek nervously, remembering his first encounter with Jean. Right now, he had bigger concerns. “Just... My friend, the guy who dropped out, he did it because he wanted me to take his place, right? He deserves it! I know he doubts himself sometimes, but he's a really strong dancer in his own right. I can't let him give up just to save others.”

It's now Ymir's turn to throw out a questioning look, “Really? You think that guy is that noble? Seemed like a real loser if you ask me. He totally freaked out and busted out the tears crying about how he 'couldn't handle the pressure' or something like that.”

“What? There's no way. Armin's not at all like that at all!” Marco defends.

Ymir tilts her head in confusion, “Armin? Shit! Did someone else drop?” She looks at Jean accusingly, ready to take out the trash. “Kirschstein! Why didn't you say anything?!” she yells.

“Because apparently I'm trash!”

“So when were you planning to tell me about this Armin guy dropping?”

“Because he's _not!_ ” Jean huffs.

“OK, wait. So if Armin isn't the one you need to replace, then who?” Ths entire conversation leaves Marco confused and teetering on the edge of sanity.

God surely must have been listening for the voice of an angel chimes in to clarify. “Basically, Marco,” Historia begins, “A dancer named Daz quit shortly after auditions ended. It would have been OK, but Levi likes to keep things strictly in order so... we really need one more dancer in our group. Won't you join us? Pleeeeaaase?” 

“I don't know...” Marco quietly answers.

In all honesty, Marco isn't at all sure what to make of things anymore. Right now, his mind struggles to grasp the concept that he is being given a second chance at the dream job he's always wanted. Free for the taking. Any normal human being would jump at the chance.

But his resolve is slowly wavering. 

What is stopping him? 

_Who_ is stopping him?

Just shy of two feet away from him is Jean Kirschstein. The man who tried to take advantage of him and rejected him all in the span of 24 hours since meeting him. He drops his head, fixating nowhere particular on the floor, and attempts to clear his head and contemplate his choices. 

“Dude, again. _Lifetime opportunity!_ Right here, ready to go. And you _'don't know'_? Where's the downside to this?” Ymir questions with an air of disbelief. 

Historia speaks softly with a gentle smile, “You know, Marco... for Ymir and I, you were our first choice. Well... you still are. And your friend, Armin... he must think very highly of you if he's willing to give up everything for someone he deems more worthy than himself. Don't you think so?”

Marco quietly listens, but dares not to move a muscle. Still, Historia presses on, “We won't push you into doing something you're not comfortable with, but I really think you deserve this more than anyone we've seen today. Please think about it, won't you?”

Marco's gaze wanders up, crossing paths with Historia's crystal blues eyes. Gentle and confident. His eyes linger on hers for a mere moment until they move again, settling on Jean's golden eyes. Harsh and uncertain. A stark contrast compared to Historia's. Seconds pass before Jean quickly rips his eyes away, finding the wall more interesting to look at. 

Marco closes his eyes.

Breathes out evenly through his nose.

Empties his mind of all thoughts.

Except one.

_Jump._

 

-~*~-~*~-~*~-~*~-~*~-~*~-~*~-~*~-~*~-~*~-~*~-~*~-~*~-~*~-~*~-~*~-~*~-~*~-~*~-~*~-~*~-~

The heavy bang of double doors closing. The squeak of your best kicks across smooth, wooden floors. Mirrors covering almost every inch of wall space. He stares at the figure reflected in the mirrors. 

Here he stands, Marco Bodt, ready to write a new chapter of his life. 

Just a few days ago he decided to take the leap of faith and accepted Historia's offer. 

One moment he is swinging from a stripper pole for singles. The next he's packing a suitcase to go on an adventure of a lifetime. In just two months, he'll be dancing on a stadium stage alongside his fellow crewmates and a star performer in front of thousands of people. 

_I can't believe this is happening..._

He kicks himself for having second thoughts. This is his dream. Regrets be damned. 

Marco lets the excitement take over his being to the point that a jitter shakes his body, making sleep hard to come by at night. Today is no different. 

Finding rest to be a lost cause, he gets up well before the sun rises and finds himself to be the first to arrive at the studio for the first day of training. It'll be another hour or two before anyone else shows up. 

_Better make good use of it._

Equipped with his mighty iPod, he shuffles over to a corner of the room where he finds basic audio equipment set up. He plugs in and scrolls through his playlist to find a lively, funky song perfect for warming up to. 

**“It might seem crazy what I'm 'bout to say. Sunshine she's here you can take a break”**  
Marco glides his way across the floor to the center and begins a series of stretches. It'd be bad if he cramps up in the middle of practice on day one. 

He falls into the soulful tune, starting with the muscles in his neck. As he moves onto his shoulders, he hears the familiar creak of the double doors opening behind him. Over his shoulder, a peppy Sasha peaks through the doors with a sleep-walking Connie right behind her. 

Marco greets them with bright smiles and waves them over to join in. Sasha drags a tired Connie in and tosses their belongings off to the side of the studio. They fall right into place on either side of Marco, giving each other plenty of room.

Not too long after they join in, the doors clatter open again. The Shiganshina trio pour in, infiltrating the impromptu warm-up. So far, this day is starting on a good note for Marco. 

**“Clap along if you feel like a room without a roof”**  
Joints pop, knuckles crack, and appendages stretch. Marco leads his crew through a routine of stretches that to an outsider looks like a carefully timed choreography, all of them moving together like a well-oiled machine. 

Marco spins around with the music and claps along to the beat, urging the crew to follow suit. He guides them all to form a dance circle and encourages them to take a turn in the center, a convenient way to get them energized for the long day ahead. 

Eren braves them all by moving into the middle of their jubilant dance circle. He breaks out his impressive pop-locking maneuver skills that are far smoother than any high-end robot. He is just starting to warm-up when Mikasa sneaks in behind him and jokingly pushes him aside, causing everyone to laugh. 

The way she moves is powerfully on-point, direct, and laced with elegance that flows with the music. She is in complete control of her body, down to the slightest muscle twitch and a dance force to be reckoned with. She gracefully finishes up and her crewmates whistle their approval.

Sasha bumps her hips into Armin's, making him stumble into the circle. It's a mischievous tactic on her part to kickstart him. Having all eyes on him makes his nervousness all the more apparent.

He laughs with a shy smile, shakes his head 'no' and holds up his hands in surrender. Unfortunately for him, they won't take a “no” for an answer.

Connie throws out a few of his own words of encouragement into the mix, “C'mon, Double AA!!! Give us a fresh charge!!!”

“Guys, no...” Armin attempts to make his way back to the edge.

“Armin! Armin! Armin!” they chant. 

**”Bring me down, Can't nothing bring me down”**  
He gives in right as the bridge drops, dipping down low and cranks himself back up in tune. Despite his initial reluctance, he is having fun and lets loose once he finds his stride. When he thinks everyone has had their fill of his dancing, he moonwalks his way out to the rowdy applause from his friends.

The power couple “Springles” takes to the center and flaunt their moves of an urban samba with a touch of swing. They're playful with each other, moving in perfect harmony. Connie takes the lead spinning Sasha in and out, pulling her close. Or is Sasha taking control using her fierce hip action? It's the beauty of teamwork.

They strike a pose signaling the end of their segment. Connie holds onto Sasha's waist and guides her backwards, still keeping a bounce in their step. Sasha impishly grins at Marco. She makes a come hither gesture with both of her hands, rotating them in a reeling motion as a way to tell Marco he is up!

“Alright, fearless leader! Show us how it's done!” she calls out. Marco laughs and grooves his way into the circle, completely into the melody as he dances to a soothing voice and hypnotizing bass line.

They were all lost in the music, just happy to be together on this new adventure. Nothing could take this feeling away from them. Not even the figure going completely unnoticed, making their way to Marco's iPod could take their happiness away. 

**“Clap along if you know what happiness is to-”**  
Except for maybe the music. They all stop in their tracks when the music is killed. There at the audio equipment stood a very grumpy Jean gripping Marco's iPod he unplugged tightly in his hand. 

He crosses his arms and eyes them all angrily, “What the fuck are you guys doing?”

Connie tries to explain in a relaxed buddy-buddy tone, “Hey man, chill. We were just stretching is all. You know? Gettin' ready for a big day of practice and-”

“And exhausting yourselves before the real training even starts? Really? The last thing I need is a group of useless dancers who can't keep up with me,” Jean scolds.

“Like that's hard to do,” Eren mutters. 

“Ya got somethin' you wanna get off your chest, Jaeger?”

Eren walks up to Jean, “Yeah, actually. I do.” They stand face-to-face just inches away from each other, blood beginning to boil. 

“Eren!” Mikasa and Armin attempt to intervene.

“What's it to you what we do in our spare time? We're here. We're early. And we're doing exactly what we were hired to do: Dance!” Eren argues.

“As long as you and your friends are on this tour, you're on my watch and you'll do things _my_ way.”

“Who wants to be lead by a self-centered jackass?”

Eren and Jean make a move towards each other, ready to duke it out. However, their movements are stopped short by Marco who comes between the two with his back to Jean. “Eren, STOP!”

“But-”

Marco holds up a hand and stern eyes that tell him to drop it. Eren backs off, but not without casting leering eyes at Jean over Marco's shoulder.

Marco turns to Jean looking him confidently in the eyes, “Mr. Kirschstein, it's my fault. I'm the one who came in early without permission, not them.”

Jean stops, a little taken aback. They had not spoken a word to each other since their conversation was interrupted by Ymir and Historia. Every meeting between them had still carried a heavy weight of tension. Unable to look back at Marco with the same confidence, he turns his head away. 

He's quiet for a few moments. When he speaks to Marco, it's low and a little... defeated? “Just... make sure you keep up with the rest of the class, OK? I'm letting you go with a warning. Got it?” He holds out the iPod carefully to Marco. 

Marco's eyes widen at his words. Was Jean actually being just a tiny bit... nice? The shock fades and he genuinely smiles at Jean, “I will. Thank you.” He retrieves his iPod from Jean, their fingers grazing each other. 

Jean quickly pulls his hand away like a child getting too close to a burning stove once the iPod is safely back in Marco's possession. He clears his throat, “As for the rest of you, enjoy the last bit of peace and quiet you're gonna get before training starts, 'cause it might be your last for a while. It's gonna be hell from here on out!” 

He leaves them on that note without another word and starts prepping the room for the first day. 

As he turns away, Marco swears that Jean's sporting a nice shade of pink across his cheeks.

-~*~-~*~-~*~-~*~-~*~-~*~-~*~-~*~-~*~-~*~-~*~-~*~-~*~-~*~-~*~-~*~-~*~-~*~-~*~-~*~-~*~-~

“UUGGGHHHH, someone just please put me out of my misery!” Connie cries, collapsing more on Sasha than on the bench they share, disturbing her intimate moment with her Pringles. When Jean Kisrchstein says he's gonna run your ass through the wringer, you bring the lube. 

“Eww, you're gross!” Sasha shrugs him off and goes back to enjoying her tube of delicious, salty goodness.

“Sash, you're as gross as I am,” he states. His face lights up at a thought. He lowers his voice and wiggles his brows deviously, “Plus, you've never complain when we-BLAHHGGG!”

“Nope. You can stop right there. Now wipe up!” Sasha fires back with a soft, purple sports towel she shoves in his face.

A week has passed since practices for the tour have gotten underway. Every day, they hit the floor and hit it hard. In this world, you have to be quick on your toes both figuratively and literally. 

In previous gigs, they were used to the insane schedules of learning routines from day 'til night, but never on a level quite this extensive. A tour like this is a titan all on its own that 3DMGroove had never encountered before.

Jean and Ymir split everyone up into two groups, switching roles between being a primary and alternate dancer for every choreo. Should cases of sickness, injuries, or just plain sucking (as Levi would argue) all asses are covered. There is no way any of them will get out of learning every piece of choreography this show has to offer.

Practice ends for them earlier than previous days. 3DMGroove finds refuge in a room that was converted into a pseudo-break room of sorts for their use. The remaining four crew members relax around an old, creaky lunch table that is quite literally on its last legs.

“One week in, guys! You all did an awesome job,” Marco compliments. “How about we celebrate? Dinner at the greasiest diner we can find? You're in, right Sasha?” 

Sasha perks up, about to agree until Connie cuts her off as the bearer of bad news, “No can do, bro. Unlike you lucky bastards, Sash and I have an extended practice in like, half an hour or somethin'.” 

“Oh...” Marco replies in minor disappointment. “Eren? Mikasa? Armin?” he brightens up.

“Hells yeah, man! We're in!” Eren rejoices.

“Great! Let's shower up, and meet back here at... ahh... what's the time right now?” Marco pats around his pockets looking for his cell phone. Only he comes up empty handed. “Oh, fish nuggets.”

“What's wrong?” Armin asks.

“I think I left my phone at the studio,” Marco guesses. 

“I got you! The time isssss...” Eren says gallantly. He fishes around in his pocket for his cell that he can't seem to procure.

“5:32,” Mikasa answers for him, holding Eren's phone in her hand. 

“What the hell, Mikasa? Why do you have my cell?!” he snatches out of her hands and checks to make sure she hasn't gotten into his phone yet. She already has.

“You forgot it in the studio. So I picked it up for you.”

“Geez, I wouldn't have forgotten it if you didn't touch it! You don't have to babysit me all the time, you know!” Eren complains.

Armin merely rolls his eyes at the two and looks to Marco for a plan. “How does 6:30 sound, Marco? We can meet at the front of the studio. Rose's Diner is just a couple of blocks down the road.”

“6:30 is perfect. I'll see you guys later!” The trio and Marco get up to leave, but Marco needs to retrieve his forgotten cell first.

A disheartened Sasha pouts at her friends, “If you love me, you'll bring me dinner!”

-~*~-~*~-~*~-~*~-~*~-~*~-~*~-~*~-~*~-~*~-~*~-~*~-~*~-~*~-~*~-~*~-~*~-~*~-~*~-~*~-~*~-~

The hallways are almost completely devoid of people, save for a straggler or two Marco passes on his way to the main studio. As he walks towards his destination, he hears a soft melody in the air. His curiosity piques when he discovers the source is coming from right where he is heading.

The double doors stand wide open and he quietly takes a peek within. Fighting a gasp at what he sees. 

**“As I stand here contemplating on the right thing to decide. Will I take the wrong direction? All my life, where will I go? What lies ahead of me?”**  
Jean dances with strength and grace as he moves across the floor with precision. The lyrics almost seem pointless when emotions radiate off Jean, giving life to the music. 

Marco recalls all the countless hours spent at his computer watching all of Jean's dance compilation videos. The videos certainly haven't done Jean justice by any stretch of the imagination. There are no words that can express the shivery feeling Marco gets from observing the real thing.

 **“Who can I run to, to share this empty space?”**  
To his surprise, Jean performs a beautiful contemporary arrangement. A style that Marco never knew he was capable of. A whole new side of Jean most people have rarely ever seen. And here is, Marco, the only one in attendance. 

Jean seems completely engaged in his dancing, so Marco takes the opportunity to silently sneak his way into the room, just outside the door. He sits cross-legged on the floor like a 5 year old watching his favorite Saturday morning cartoons.

 **“Who can I run to when I need love?”**  
Time passes in an instant that Marco doesn't register the song beginning to fade out. Jean falls into an elegant pose when he finishes his piece. His head angles downward and arms wrap around his body like he is protecting himself, as if he were to let go, every bit of him would fall apart.

Marco is about to applaud Jean until he notices something that tells him that he may not have been the only one in the audience. He was so enamored with Jean's dancing that he never seemed to take note of a laptop sitting in the middle of the room on a metal, folding chair. 

Jean picks up the computer and speaks to it with a loving smile, “Qu'est-ce que t'en penses, maman? T'as aimé?”

Contemporary dancing? Genuine smiling? And now speaking a foreign language?! What other secrets of Jean's would Marco be privy to today?

“Mon chéri, à chaque fois que je te vois danser, j'ai le sourire aux lèvres,” comes a woman's sweet, cheery voice comes from Jean's laptop.

_“Mon chéri”? That's like “lover” or something in French, right? A girlfriend, maybe?_

Marco doesn't understand any part of the conversation, but keeps listening in on what Marco guesses is a Skype chat.

“Alors, ça veut dire oui?” Jeans asks nervously.

The woman laughs, “J'ai adoré!” Jean seems a little at ease for a quick moment until she continues, “Mais, mon chéri, pour qui danses-tu ainsi?”

Jean's face is on the edge of bewilderment, “C'est évident, non? Je danse pour toi.”

“Mes yeux fatigués me disent que tu cherches toujours. Jean, mon coeur, j'espère que tu ne fais pas ça juste pour moi,” her voice is one of concern.

Jean is a little hesitant to reply, “...Non, bien sûr.” 

“Est-ce que ça te rend heureux?” she presses gently.

Jean answers with a little more vigor, “Bien sûr, oui!”

“Ne te force pas à faire quelque chose que tu n'aimes pas, mon chéri.”

Jean responds with what Marco is pretty sure can be identified as sarcasm, “Si je disais que je voulais être éboueur, tu approuverais?”

The woman keeps her cheery tone, not to be thwarted by Jean's words, “Bien entendu! Et tu serais même le sacré meilleur éboueur qui ait jamais vécu.”

Jean chuckles lightly and turns to sit on the folding chair, still oblivious to the eavesdropper by the door. Jean's smile returns again, “Tu es aussi radieuse que toujours, maman.”

“Bien sûr que je le suis. Je suis ta mère.” she says. If Marco didn't know better, he is convinced that there is a similar air of sarcasm the woman dishes right back at Jean. 

They both laugh in unison. Marco almost wants join in on with their laughter. If only he knew what they were talking about. 

“Je te rappelle bientôt.” Jean says with a hand ready to close his chat window.

“Une dernière chose, Jean.” the woman says in a slight rush.

“Oui?” 

“Trouve ton bonheur, vraiment. S'il s'agit bien de la danse comme tu le dis, alors s'il te plaît, trouve ta raison de danser. Je veux savoir pour qui tu danses réellement.” she tells him. Judging from the way Jean's expressions drops slightly, it must have been something serious. 

Jean lightly forces a smile, not wanting to upset the woman, “Je te le promets. Je t'aime. De tout mon coeur.”

“Je t'aime aussi, mon chéri. De toute mon âme.” she returns.

“Bonne nuit," he says. He closes down his chat and releases a heavy sigh with it. 

Jean is still unaware of Marco being so close by. He's so focused on the conversation he just had with this mystery woman. Marco wonders if he should speak up. But what can he say? What should he do? 

Or he could just grab his cell and ninja his way out. Jean is so deep in thought, he believes that he has a good shot at this. He sees it just a few feet away from him sitting against the wall. He could do this. This should be a walk in the park. 

He tip toes his way over to his phone past Jean who is ignorant of the worst ninja ever to exist. Ever so quietly and slowly, he crouches down and picks up his cell with ease.

 **”Seid ihr das Essen? Nein, wir sind die Jäger!”**  
Timing is a funny thing. Especially when Eren decides that this is the absolute best time to give Marco a ring. His ringtone scares the ever-living daylights out of him that his cell becomes airborne. Hands fumbling for it like he's juggling a hot potato in the air. 

Triumphantly, he grabs hold of the slippery, hell spawn of technology. However, his victory does nothing for him when his face kisses the hard and well-polished, wooden floor. 

“Oww...” He winces. The gig is up. If his cell hasn't called Marco out (pun slightly intended), Jean couldn't have possibly missed the loud smack of Marco's faceplant.

Jean rises to his feet, holding his laptop tightly to his chest as he spins around towards the source of the disturbance. “What're you doing?” 

Marco staggers to his feet and silences his phone. He rubs at right side of his face in pain. “Uhh... hi? I um...” he holds up his phone hesitantly. “Cell... forgot... heh heh heeeh...” he says between the throbbing.

Jean narrows his brows and then raises one, “Why didn't you just say something?”

“I'm sorry. You seemed busy. I didn't want to disturb you, though I guess the point is moot, isn't it?” He tries to play it off as a joke laughing nervously. He rubs the back of his head and keeps his eyes to the ground. “I'm really sorry.”

Jean grunts lowly, brushing it off, “'S fine.” He sits back in his chair, leaving Marco for now and reverts his attention back to his computer.

Marco debates within himself. 

Should he take his leave and go meet up with his friends? 

Or should he let his curiosity take the wheel?

He takes a few steps forward, sneaking a peek over Jean's shoulder. Inquisitive as a puppy, he tries for an ice breaker, “Soooo... contemporary, huh?”

“Yes,” Jean says flatly, not really paying any mind to the freckled gazelle behind him. 

“I never knew.”

“You know my secret. Now I'll have to kill you,” Jean says without missing a beat.

“No, just... I'm not making fun of you or anything. It was really beautiful to watch.” Jean looks over his shoulder at Marco with a puzzled look. Marco throws his hands up, “Sorry! That was weird to say. I wasn't spying on you or anything! I really just came by to get my cell.”

Jean snorts and starts laughing, “Dude! It's really ok. It's not that big of a deal, y'know. And thanks.”

“Ohh! Uhh... You're welcome!” Marco squeaks. 

_What's gotten into you, Marco? Calm down._

He clears his throat. With the mood lightened a little, he moves the conversation along, “So you speak French too?”

“Yet another secret of mine you've gotten away with. Anything else to declare?” comes the lighthearted sarcasm from Jean's grinning mouth. 

“Maybe just one. Who was that just now? Overseas girlfriend?” Marco teases.

A full-on laugh erupts from Jean. Perplexed, Marco doesn't think it was all that funny. Jean somewhat clarifies, “Well, she is a girl. And she's kinda like a friend.”

“So, yes? No?”

Jean's laughter quiets into soft chuckles. “That was my mom.” He smiles, one corner of his mouth higher than the other. 

“You just danced for your mom?! That's-”

“OK, this time, seriously. I swear to God, if you tell anyone,” Jean threatens.

“Ok! OK! Your secret is 100% safe with me. Scout's honor!” Marco stands proudly with a fist over his heart.

“Good.”

“But that is very sweet of you. She must really enjoy your dancing.”

“I guess.” Jean shrugs. 

“You guess? She sounded really happy just now.... Uhh... not that I was eavesdropping on purpose!”

“She used to be a professional ballet dancer in Europe.”

“Oh, I see.” Marco keyed in on _used to_. “So I take it she's retired?” Jean's smile fades away completely. Just one look at him and Marco knows he must have hit a landmine. “I'm sorry! You don't have to answer that. I'm being way too nosy!”

“She's paralyzed.”

Marco's heart stops at the word. Speechless.

“She and dad were in an accident. Dad... didn't make it. And, well... she's lucky to be alive...”

“Mr. Kirschstein, I'm so sorry.”

Jean lifts a hand to stop him, “Don't. It's been years now. I'm totally OK now”

“So is that why you dance? For your mother?”

“Basically, yeah... and the pay's good.” Jean's sarcasm comes to his defense against sob stories. Marco wonders briefly if it runs a little deeper, but leaves the subject alone. To indulge in a stranger's life story might be overstepping boundaries.

Marco shakes his head at the comment, and if Jean pays close attention, he's pretty sure Marco laughs lightly under his breath, “That's really wonderful of you, Mr. Kirsch-”

“Ugh, will you stop the 'Mr. Kirschstein' shit? That makes me sound so... so...”

“Adult?”

“That's a nicer way of puttin' it.”

“So 'Jean', then.”

“That's more like it. So what about you? Do I call you Mr. Bodt? Marco? Ro-BODT-Tic? ...Hot Co-”

“Jean, if you have any respect for me at all, don't _ever_ use that name again,” Marco cuts him off. His frown explicitly apparent as soon as the first syllable comes out of Jean's mouth. “Please.” It wasn't a request.

He can't change his past, but he'll never be ashamed of it. However, for him to move forward, he needs to leave things behind. Unfortunately, “Hot Coco” didn't make the cut.

“Sorry,” Jean shrinks into his chair. “So 'Marco', then?”

“Marco is great!” he says a little over-enthusiastically. 

“Pfftt!” A case of the giggles spreads like a contagious disease. The two share a warm laugh for a moment or two. 

It's so surreal. Not all that long ago, the two could barely look each other in the eye. And here they are, actually having a decent conversation. Jean ponders why they didn't do this earlier.

And then it hits him.

That night.

Jean's laugh dies out first, becoming solemn. He could just not say anything and let things be, but something didn't feel right to leave things unsaid.

He opens his mouth to speak, but Marco's cell cries for attention. 

“Oh, crap! How did it get to be 6 already?! I still need a shower. I'll uh, I'll see you tomorrow... Jean. Thank you for the hard work you put into choreographing us! See you!” Marco dashes off towards the door.

“Uh!” Jean croaks. “W-Wait! Marco, hold on!”

Marco is just about to pass through the doorway when he turns his head to Jean a second too soon. The heavy impact of colliding with another human being is softer than to his scuffle with the floor. 

Quick on his instincts this time around, Marco wraps his arms around the other body in a protective hug. He spins around on his heel and steps back with his opposite foot to stop them from falling to the floor. 

“I'm so sorry!!! Gosh, are you, OK?!” Marco feels horrible for his head-on collision with an innocent bystander. He feels even worse when a familiar pair of angry amber eyes narrow at him. 

Hitch Deliss. And man is she pissed.

“Do you mind?” her voice is low and heated.

Quickly, he stands her up and backs away. “I'm sorry.”

“Watch where you're going.” She straightens herself out. “What're you doing here anyway? Trying to get back into good graces with your dear, sweet customer?” she spits at him.

“No, Hitch. I wasn't. And honestly, it really isn't any of your business.” 

“Ohhh, so 'Coco' has a bit of a bite today, does he?” Hitch digs into him, slowly trying to pick away at Marco. 

“Hitch, drop it,” he voices sternly.

She crosses her arms, jutting out a hip with a pout on her lips, “Aww, I'm sorry. I'll play nice.” Her pout is replaced with her signature grin, “By the way, you do know that this is a _private practice_ , right?”

“So I've been told,” he's pretty sure this is going to lead to another one of her insults.

“It's pretty exclusive. Only the best of the best were hand-selected. We get showcased and everything. Can you imagine it? Me and Jeanny-boy doing a duet with no other background dancers. Just the two of us.” she brags, already giving Jean a pet name.

“That's good to hear. Congratulations, Hitch.” He turns to leave, not wanting to hear the vitriol he's sure she has loaded in the barrel. 

“A shame you couldn't be considered one of the best. I mean, being a desperate last minute option. That's pretty sad. Not being part of the original line-up and all. Just randomly picked up off the street. But I guess you're used to that.”

_You know that's not true. Just keep walking, Marco._

He comes to terms that there is nothing he can say will quench her desire to break him down. He keeps walking.

“I'll be sure to sure to tell you what it's like being under the spotlight on a _real_ stage!” she says, making sure her voice carries as he turns the corner. 

“What's going on out here?” Jean asks peering around the door frame.

“Oh, nothing at all, Jeanny-boy,” she wraps an arm around his. “Shall we get started?” she asks sweetly.

Jean is a bit unsettled by his pet name, making him shiver in all the wrong ways. He pulls his arm away from her as if he'd just gotten his arm stuck in a vat of an unpleasant ooze, “Don't call me that. It's either 'Jean' or leave. And where are the others?”

“Does it matter?” her mood sours. 

Not too far away, running down the hallways, to no one's surprise, Connie and Sasha are fashionably late.

“You just HAD to have a snack attack right as we had to leave, didn't you?!” Connie complains.

“How was I supposed to know the vending machine was outta order?! Don't blame all this on me, Springer!” Sasha yells.

“You could have left it!”

“And let it go to waste?! ARE YOU INSANE?!”

“Hey! It's Marco!” Connie points out. They both screech to a halt, “Hey, man! I thought you were-”

Marco walks past them briskly, not sparing them a glance. He keeps his head down hoping no one would see his face.

“Marco? Are you OK?” a worried Sasha asks. 

“I'm fine!” Marco shouts, not at all on purpose. He just needs to get away as swiftly as his feet will take him. 

He crashes through the exit, the doors closing behind him with a bang. 

Once outside, he takes a deep breath, taking in the colors of the sky that is fading into a gray. It's going to rain.

He rests his forearm against the concrete wall and rests his head on his arm. 

_She's wrong. She's so wrong._

He repeats the words over and over in his head, trying to discredit Hitch's words that manage to seep through. 

Droplets fall gently on the pavement. 

Slowly, one-by-one at first, but they pick up momentum.

The soothing pitter-patter of rainfall drowns out all noise.

Even the soft sighs of someone choking back tears.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tension eases between Marco and Jean, but there's still some things that linger in the air that Jean knows he'll have to address. And Hitch is not making things easier for Marco. How will Marco deal with the two of them between unfinished business and unknown bitterness? Find out next time in chapter 7! 
> 
> Was it worth the wait? I hope so! ^^
> 
> First, let's update the tracklist!
> 
> Track 01: "Applause" by Lady GaGa (chap. 1)  
> Track 02: "Turn Me On" by David Guetta feat. Nicki Minaj (chap. 1)  
> Track 03: "Can't You See" by Total feat. Notorious B.I.G. (chap. 2)  
> Track 04: "Human Nature" by Madonna (chap. 2)  
> Track 05: "Dance of Die" by Janelle Monae feat. Saul Williams (chap. 3)  
> Track 06: "Back and Forth" by Aaliyah (chap. 4)  
> Track 07: "Church" by T-Pain (chap. 4)  
> Track 08: "Happy" by Pharrell Williams (cap. 6)  
> Track 08: "Who Can I Run to?" by Xscape
> 
> Secondly, here are the translations for Jean and his mother's conversation:
> 
>  **Jean:** What do you think, mom? Did you like it?  
>  **Mom:** My darling, every time I see you dance always brings a smile to my face.   
> **Jean:** So, yes?  
>  **Mom:** I loved it!  
>  **Mom:** But darling, who is it that you are dancing for?  
>  **Jean:** It's obvious, isn't it? I dance for you.  
>  **Mom:** My old eyes tell me that you're still searching. My darling Jean, I hope you not just doing this only for my sake.  
>  **Jean:** ...of course not.  
>  **Mom:** Does it bring you happiness?  
>  **Jean:** of course!  
>  **Mom:** My darling, please don't push yourself doing something you don't love.  
>  **Jean:** If I said I wanted to be a garbage man, would you approve?  
>  **Mom:** Of course! And you would be the best damn garbage man that ever lived.  
>  **Jean:** You look beautiful as always, mom.  
>  **Mom:** Of course I do. I am your mother.  
>  **Jean:** I'll talk to you soon, mom.  
>  **Mom:** One last thing, Jean.  
>  **Jean:** Yes?  
>  **Mom:** Please find your happiness. If it is dancing as you have said, please find your reason. I want to know who it truly is you dance for.  
>  **Jean:** Yes, mother. I love you. With all my heart.  
>  **Mom:** I love you, my darling. With all my soul.  
>  **Jean:** Goodnight.
> 
> Jean, you are such a mama's boy! <3
> 
> Thank you all so much for following my fic and being so patient with my slow update! With the con season coming to a halt, I'll be able to update this a lot quicker than 3 months. Yay!!!
> 
> Chapter 7 is another chapter I'm super excited to write! MORE JEANMARCO! I know you all want it! Thank you all so much again! See you next time! <3!!!
> 
> Also... uh... if... anyone ever wants to do any kind of fanart or something, I track the "fic: tmbayds" tag... Just sayin'! ;D


	7. La La La

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Marco's rhythm is off-beat. Jean notices and takes action.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 4 months later and we have an update!!! I am so sorry it took so long. One thing after another kept happening after another and then the holidays hit. X_x But as promised, I will keep this fic going until it's finished! 
> 
> Thank you all so much to everyone who has been following along with this series and showing your support! It really means a lot to me when people tell me that they love this fic and say things like they don't dance, but this fic makes them want to. Also, shout out to the awesome mom who came by my table at AWA to compliment me on my fic!!! That total blew me away and it still resonates with me. And just thank you to everyone!!! You guys keep me going and yeah... I'm going to go be a ball of emotions in a corner now. *hugs to all!*
> 
> As always, thank you to the best, damn editing team I could ever ask for, the lovely [Laurel](http://la-la-la-laurel.tumblr.com) and my amazing waifu [Lemonorangelime](http://lemonorangelime.tumblr.com)! This fic would not be anywhere near as good without you!
> 
> I am super ashamed I never mentioned this before in my previous chapters, but please look at these wonderful pieces of art that was inspired by this series!!!! [Look at this beautiful piece that Inverted-Typo did!!! T^T](http://inverted-typo.tumblr.com/post/97362741367/im-so-mad-marco-ended-up-smaller-than-jean-they) It is the first piece that shows up under the search and it makes me super happy to see it every time!!! I love you sweetie!!! Thank you so much for this!!! <3<3<3
> 
> And then from the JM Secret Santa [Msrenai21 surprised me with this lovely piece of art for Christmas!!!](http://msrenai21.tumblr.com/post/106029759989/eeeehhhh-i-couldnt-wait-any-longer-so-here-it-is) I absolutely adore it and I am very happy this showed up on Christmas eve! Thank you!!! <3
> 
> There was one more piece of art that was inspired by my fic with Jean and Marco practicing together, but sadly I cannot not find it at all! D: If you ever drew fanart for TMBAYDS please contact me and let me know ASAP!!! I want to show off your art to the rest of the world. :D
> 
> Also, just in case you guys want to know what some of the cast looks like, look no further! I have started designing some of the characters. So far I have [Ymir](http://enjouji.tumblr.com/post/104872522466/i-was-very-much-in-a-sketching-mood-last-night-and), [Krista](http://enjouji.tumblr.com/post/104946641846/to-go-with-ymir-from-yesterday-here-is), [Sasha](http://enjouji.tumblr.com/post/105022903596/joining-the-tmbayds-line-up-miss-sasha-fearse), [Connie](http://enjouji.tumblr.com/post/105228617711/finally-i-get-to-a-finalized-cleaned-up-art-of), [Armin](http://enjouji.tumblr.com/post/105820885441/finally-got-around-to-finishing-this), and [Mikasa](http://enjouji.tumblr.com/post/106695008791/working-as-quickly-as-i-can-on-chapter-7-of)! 
> 
> Never fret though, the rest of the crew is in the works! Gonna save the best for last. ;D
> 
> Ok, I am rambling on forever. I will shut my trap now. 
> 
> Anyways, ON WITH THE UPDATE!!!

“5! 6! 7! 8! You've-made-me-the-queen-of-your-broken-heart. Baaaa... baaa... quick-quick!” Jean voices the lyrics of a chart-topping Krista single loud enough to be heard over the skillfully placed steps pounding down on the studio floor. He conducts his puppets and paces back and forth in front of them, observing with eagle eyes to catch even the slightest foot out of line.

They've only just entered their third week of practice and Jean's bar for expectations is set even higher than Levi's level of anal-retentiveness. No one is safe from scrutiny. No one. “Don't-blame-it-on-me-when-your-wall-falls-apart... Marco! Ease up!”

“Hey Marco, it's not too late to drop out. I'm sure Nile will still take you back in a heartbeat,” Hitch hisses in delight behind Marco's back.

Any hope for the tension Marco had banked on dying off seems to have slipped from his grasp after his run-in with Hitch in the previous week. Normally he would put her words out to pasture and move on, but being in the same room with her day after day from dawn til dusk is like having a grain of sand rolling around in your shoe: irritating to endure and impossible to ignore until you've dealt with the problem directly. Unfortunately for Marco, that grain is proving difficult to find. 

“Marco, watch your pacing on the fourth count! You're getting ahead of yourself!” Jean critiques, an added bonus to top off his tower of stress.

“Hey, you OK, bro?” Eren asks between a quick pause. 

“Yeah. Fine,” Marco answers back unconvincingly.

“You don't look it. What's got you on edge?”

The worry in Eren's voice only heightens Marco's need to evade the question. “I promise it's nothing. I just need to focus more is all.”

“But-” Eren starts.

“From the top!” The boom of Jean's voice shuts down their conversation, and for once Marco welcomes the interruption. Practice resumes, but not without a few bumps in the road. While Marco isn't the only one subjected to Jean's criticism, he does earn the brunt of it. The smirk Hitch shoots in his direction does nothing to alleviate his mood. 

_Just an hour left. You can do this._

Marco finds himself at a crossroad between dancing and sleeping. It would normally seem obvious what his first choice would be. In his current predicament however, locking himself up in his hotel room to sleep the days away is starting to tip the scales in the opposite direction. It's an unusual thought he never would have considered before.

“Alright, that's it for the day!” Jean announces. “Wash up, eat, sleep, repeat! For some of you, extended practice in an hour. Don't be late!”

Marco exhales, relieving some of his tension and looking forward to a date with his bed. He heads for his belongings waiting for him along the back wall. He takes two steps forward before Jean calls out to him, “Marco! Come see me in Studio 5 before you head out for the day.”

Marco's internal voice is screaming, though not loud enough to tune out the impish chuckle Hitch lets slip under her breath. 

His shoulders visibly slump and he trudges onward to retrieve his sports towel and water bottle from his bag. Wiping the sweat off and taking a swig of water helps buy him some time to reflect before he faces Jean. He mentally prepares for the worst possible outcome: a good chewing-out over his performance and threats of being let go. What a wonderful way to end his night. For once, even Hitch's advice about going back to the club seems like an optimal route. 

Eren approaches Marco with concern written across his face, “Hey. What's going on with you?”

“I told you it was nothing. Can't a guy have a bad day once in a while?” The annoyance in his voice sounds a little more harsh than he intended, only proving Eren's point.

“'Bad day'? Try a _week_. You're not yourself lately and we're worried about you. All of us are,” Eren tells him sternly. 

“I appreciate it, but you guys are worrying over nothing. I gotta go,” Marco tosses his things in his bag and heads for the door. 

“Marco!” Eren pleads.

He stops in his tracks, exhaling deeply. He knows Eren is only trying to help and that he's going to regret his attitude later. This is not who he is.

Marco glances slightly over his shoulder and responds softly, “We'll talk later. OK?”

The silence is enough of a confirmation for Marco and he carries on to his perceived doom.

Marco heads down the hallways that become more barren of life with every turn he takes. He finds the door, painted with the label “Studio 5” in a graffiti motif, has been left ajar. He takes one final breath for good measure and enters, awaiting his fate.

“You wanted to see me?” Marco asks a question that's more of a signifier that he's here. The room is much smaller than the main studio where their practices are held. It could comfortably fit ten dancers inside before it starts feeling crowded.

“Hey.” Jean acknowledges him from one corner of the room. Marco finds him preoccupied with the audio equipment and wonders what he is planning. “Put your stuff down,” Jean instructs.

_So much for this being a quick scolding._

He sets his bag down and crosses his arms nervously, anticipation putting him on pins and needles.

“I know my performance has been a little off,” he admits, hoping it would soften the blow Jean surely had waiting for him. 

“Well, at least we got that part of the conversation outta the way,” Jean agrees. He stays in place, not bothering to turn around. Marco takes notice that he is scrolling through his iPod. 

“I apologize. I promise, starting now, it won't continue,” he swears trying to avoid anything that sounds like desperation. Resorting to begging on hands and knees to avoid dismissal would be a blow to his pride.

“You know, Marco, this is kinda why I didn't choose you right off the bat at auditions. You're hopeless when you've given up.” Blunt and straight to the point. Jean's words are anything but gentle.

“Who's said I've given up?” Marco defends, almost offended at being called a quitter.

“Haven't you?”

“No, I've just-”

“Let pointless thoughts get to you,” Jean states like it's a fact, finally turning to look Marco dead in the eye in complete seriousness, as if daring Marco to argue with him. “You're no good to me if I can't have 110% of your focus,” he says as he turns his back on Marco once again.

Marco's shoulders slump slightly. Hearing those words is somehow worse than failing his audition. It stung to be told your usefulness has run its course after coming so far.

Jean sets down his iPod and approaches Marco with careful but firm steps, stopping just a few feet away from him. “So, what's it gonna be, Marco?” He crosses his arms and leaves the decision in Marco's hands, not at all bothering to read out a list of options.

Should he pack up and go home? Stay and risk being a dead weight? 

Or take the obvious course of action: Fight.

Strengthening his stance, Marco roots himself onto the path he chooses to take. “Tell me how to kill this,” the determination in his voice is enough to prove to Jean that he will not back down.

Admiration fills Jean at Marco's new-found resolve. He reaches into his pocket and pulls out a tiny remote that he points at the audio equipment. 

Sounds of a gentle harp playing fill the room like twinkling stars. Jean puts the remote away and allows his body to flow like water with the music, stretching out his limbs like he's just woken from a dream. 

**“La LA, la la la la la la la la la LA!”**  
Jean moves with a mix of pops and gentle waves surging through his arms. His dancing becomes childlike, filled with wonder to the count of the chanting voice of a little kid.

“What are you doing?” a confused and curious Marco asks.

**“Hush! Don't speak.”**  
Jean puts a finger to Marco's lips silencing him. He clenches his fist grabbing at an imaginary object that is Marco's voice and tosses it aside. Marco is taken off guard, watching Jean literally dance circles around him. His eyes follow Jean with precision, analyzing his every move. 

“No, seriously. What are you doing?” he attempts his question again, craning his neck around to watch the dancing sensation behind him. Marco tries and fails miserably at hiding the smile plastering across his face, his tense mood drifting away into space.

**“I'm covering my ears like a kid.”**  
Jean whips back around in front of Marco, placing his hands over his ears in a juvenile manner and over-exaggerates the rotation of his head. The wonderful thing about watching Jean dance is how deeply committed his is when he gets into characters. All without an inkling of embarrassment over his actions. 

A string of la-la-las replays again. Jean dances inches away in front of Marco and gently reaches for his hands to pull him forward, swinging his arms to and fro in a childish manner. When it doesn't seem like Jean is getting through to Marco, he moves his hands to his shoulders and shakes him playfully. Alternating back-and-forth to either side.

Finally, it dawns on him what Jean is trying to convey. He wants Marco to relax. He wants him to let go. Wants him to get lost in the music. Wants him to _dance!_

Marco finally gives in to Jean's demands by the next verse. Observing with a mind free of judgment, Jean gets a front row seat to the pure raw talent of Marco's freestyle skills. 

**“I'm gonna drown you out before I lose my mind.”**  
Marco curls in like a boxer looking as if he was guarding himself from the world around him. He unclenches his fists as they smoothly burs away from him like his head just exploded from pressure building within his skull.

**“When your words mean nothing I go la-la-laa!**  
The music couldn't be more on point about his feelings. All the words Hitch had been spewing at him leave his body, making him feel weightless and entirely in the zone.

Not to be left out of the fun, Jean breaks into his own dance when the melodic “la-la-las” return once again. They pass it back-and-forth, trying to outdo the other in a friendly battle of footwork.

When the chorus plays again, Marco follows along to Jean's beat, mimicking every move he remembers Jean doing when he first sprung this whole thing on him.

**“I'm turning up the volume when you speak. 'Cause if my heart can't stop it, I find a way to block it, I go...”**  
They spin around in union, corkscrewing a pointed finger into the air like a rocket. Hands cover their hearts as if protecting themselves from an outside force and tilt over to the side like a teapot in a nursery rhyme. 

Jean decides to take things just a step further, delicately taking Marco by the hand, and tugs him cautiously towards him. He doesn't force it, allowing Marco to break free from his loose grip if he feels even the slightest tinge of discomfort. 

Showing no resistance, Marco bridges the gap between them and they naturally meld together into a groovy hip-hop jive. This is the first time they've danced together so closely as one unit, but it feels like they've been danced together for a lifetime.

They turn this way and that, switching between rolling the other out and reeling them back in. Jean tests his strength and wraps one arm securely around Marco's waist while still holding his hand in the other. He lifts the slightly taller man and spins them around playfully, with Marco wrapping his legs around Jean's torso.

They break out into a fit of laughter and smiles as Jean continues twirling them around. Jean sets Marco back down on the ground just before the music comes to an end. Still holding on to Marco, Jean dips him gracefully as the final note plays. 

He holds him there while the two share toothy grins and breathless chuckles. Marco's brightly lit eyes stare up at him with a faint blush coating his speckled cheeks. It's odd, but everything feels so familiar to Jean. Like he's been here before, and nothing else in the world exists, except for them. 

It hits him when he remembers this is just like the night they first met at the club.

But it's not the same. This seems different, but how?

When he realizes he's held Marco in this position for a moment too long, he pulls him upright to stand again. Jean lets go the moment Marco regains his balance. His confidence washes away as a sudden shyness rushes in. “So... uhm... you feel better?” he asks while running a hand through his undercut.

Marco blinks. He does feel much better now that Jean brings it up. “Yeah. I do, actually!” he beams.

“Good... that's good. I'm-” he cuts himself off and clears his throat. Jean drops his hands to his hips and speaks with a bit more feigned authority. “I mean, _good!_ I expect you to come to practice with 300% of your focus, or I'm kicking you out, got it?” He crosses his arms, hoping Marco will take him seriously.

“Yes, sir!” Marco salutes with a fist padding over his heart. Marco feels relief obliterate all the stress he harbored for weeks since starting this journey. “Thank you, Jean.”

“It's nothin'...” a modest Jean turns looks away. “My mom used to make me dance when she thinks I'm out of focus”.

“That sounds adorable!”

“It's not!” Jean's cheeks burn. Being “adorable” really isn't his expertise. “It was just a way to get me to loosen up when I get stressed out, or something like that”.

“Well, your mother is a wise woman,” Marco compliments wholeheartedly with a soft smile. “Please give her my thanks.”

“Yeah... Sure! I'll do that,” Jean stammers. “Well, that's it. You're free to go.”

“Thanks, Jean. I'll see you tomorrow then.”

Marco is a little disappointed as he turns to gather his things. After getting worked up over nothing, he's kinda sad to be dismissed right when he is starting to feel... happy?

“Oh, and Marco?”

“Yeah?” He spins around a little too eagerly.

Jean gestures his pointer and middle fingers to his own eyes before pointing at Marco. “I'm watching you.”

Marco snorts lightly, waving him off as he makes his exit. With a clearer head and lighter footsteps, he retreats down the winding hallways and eventually finds his crewmates lingering along the walls in concern. 

“Hey guys!” he announces his arrival to them.

“Marco! What happened? What'd he say? You're not fired or nothin', right?!” A worried Connie asks the hard-hitting questions.

“Yeah, what'd that pointy-nosed jerk do?” Eren tag teams him.

The others await an answer with troubled eyes, anxious to know the outcome of their leader's meeting with Jean.

“Are you OK, Marco?” Armin approaches Marco much softly than Connie and Eren had.

Marco gives each of them a reassuring smile and lays their distress to rest, “Never better!”

-~*~-~*~-~*~-~*~-~*~-~*~-~*~-~*~-~*~-~*~-~*~-~*~-~*~-~*~-~*~-~*~-~*~-~*~-~*~-~*~-~*~-~

Practices get easier for Marco now. The music flows through his veins, directing his motions. He barely needs to think about it anymore, and just lets his body do the talking. Everyone seems to be getting everything down to a T and moving in sync. 

Mos of them, at least. 

“So how's the spotlight practice going, Con?” Marco asks between breaks.

Since shortly after practices began, Sasha and Connie have been training as alternates alongside Jean and Hitch for a special duet performance. It was truly an honor for them to be hand-picked to dance to Krista's solemn love ballad based on their natural chemistry. Unfortunately, it also meant longer hours for the dynamic duo. 

“It's complicated,” Connie shrugs. “Dude keeps changing the choreo on us.”

“Really?” This new-found information astounds Marco. It doesn't sound like the Jean he is just getting to know. 

“Yeah. He teaches us one thing, then suddenly it's 'not right' or it's 'missing something'. I'm gonna need more snacks if we keep this up!” Sasha adds to his report, crossing her arms to lean on Connie's back. Connie pulls her arms out to wrap around him instead, making it comfortable for them both.

“So there you have it. Not so great, bro,” Connie concludes. 

“Sounds rough. I wonder what that's all about.” Marco ponders while rubbing his nose.

“Dunno, but he'd better get his act together. Our first tour date is just around the corner.” Connie is right. They have less than a month left to make sure everything is perfect before the show premieres. If this highlight number fails, surely the rest of the show will follow suit.

Marco contemplates what might be causing the renowned choreographer to be so indecisive. The more he thinks about it, the more the Boy Scout in him wants to help Jean any way he can. It seems only fair after Jean helped him out of his mental rut. 

When practice ends, the crew convenes to discuss dinner plans. However, Marco has an itinerary of his own. “Hey guys, I got something I need to take care of. Can I catch up with you guys afterward?”

“Is it something we could help you with?” Armin offers.

“No, no. It's alright. It's just a little... uhh... personal. That's all.” Marco hopes he isn't raising too much suspicion. Though the way they all eye him is pretty telling that he's not convincing any of them.

“Are you sure? It's burger night! You can't miss burger night!” Sasha pouts.

“I didn't know we had a dining schedule.” Perplexed, Connie folds his arms and tilts his head like a puppy.

“Do what you need. We'll regroup later,” a stoic Mikasa comes to his rescue. 

“Thanks, Mikasa. I'll see you guys later!” He takes off quickly, heading towards a familiar room where he once danced his troubles away. As luck would have it, Jean is there alone with only the sound of Krista's singing voice keeping him company.

Marco watches him dance around, seemingly trying to solve a puzzle he can't quite figure out. He dances like a flickering light bulb, pausing every few steps when a move he tries out doesn't seem to fit the song. Frustration seems to cloud his judgment and he stomps over to his iPod to kill the music, pulling the cable out from its base. 

“Wrong, wrong, wrong!” Jean grumbles loudly to himself.

“Jean?” Marco hopes the intrusion doesn't startle him too much. It does.

“Geez, Marco. Knock, would ya?” Jean teases. He's not really all that upset by Marco's guest appearance.

“Sorry! I'll do that next time,” Marco apologizes. 

“Nah, it's cool. What's up?” Jean slips his iPod into his pocket and gives Marco his full attention.

“I was about to ask you that.”

“Huh?” Jean raises a baffled brow.

“Well, let's just say I may have heard a little rumor that things aren't panning out so well for this duet.”

“You just answered your own question. It's a rumor.” Jean's face sours.

“Forgive me for being so forward, but it doesn't seem to be too far off the mark.” Marco puts it as lightly as he can. 

“Look, if you're here to chastise me, forget it. I have a lifetime's worth of that from Ymir alone.” Jean tries his best to dissuade Marco from pushing the subject further. Too bad his tactics don't work on the freckled Samaritan.

“I'm not here to chastise you, Jean. I really just wanna help, that's all. You helped me when I was low. It's the least I could do.”

“You don't owe me any favors,” Jean refuses.

_Well, except maybe the rest of that lapdance._

Marco bites his tongue, not willing to voice his opinion of a night he wants to forget. Still, his good natured self keeps him there. Always willing to try. “So why do you keep changing the choreography?”

“I'm not changing it that much,” Jean defends. Though the look on Marco's face tells him he's not buying it. “OK, so maybe it's still a work in progress. It'll work itself out.”

“Jean, we have like three weeks left.”

“Three and a half,” Jean corrects.

“The point is,” Marco emphasizes, “You don't have much time left. And if I can, I want to help you.”

Jean crosses his arms and sighs, looking at his shuffling feet.

A thought comes to Marco's mind. “Jean, when was the last time you went out?” 

“I go to the hotel every night,” Jean declares bluntly.

“No, I mean like _out_ out. You know, for some fresh air.” 

“Probably that night you did battle.”

“Jean, that was weeks ago!” Marco groans exasperatedly. 

“So? What's that got to do with anything?”

“A lot, actually.” Marco begins to break it down for him, “You know when you've been looking at something too long that your eyes start crossing?”

“My eyes aren't crossed,” Jean the Obvious points out.

“It's a figure of speech.” Marco rolls his eyes, still smiling. “What I mean is, maybe you should consider stepping away from the problem and coming back to it with a fresh pair of eyes. Recharge your batteries. Get some inspiration. That kinda thing!” 

“Fresh eyes, huh?” Jean mulls over the idea, taking the suggestion very seriously.

“I mean, it's just a suggestion,” Marco rubs his nose feeling a sudden shyness. “You're a professional and all. I think you'd know what must be done in this situation more than I would.”

“You're right, Marco. I am a pro.” Jean smirks in a way that makes Marco think he might have unintentionally stroked his ego. 

“A _humble_ pro,” he says in hopes of doing some conceited control.

“And as a pro, I'm going to make a professional decision. C'mon, Marco!” Without another word, Jean hurriedly heads out. 

Wide-eyed in shock over Jean's impulsive decision, Marco follows blindly but with trepidation, “Jean, wait! What're you doing?!”

“Finding inspiration!” 

“Don't you have another practice in half an hour?!”

The only answer Marco gets is the sounds of the double doors clanging closed as they venture into the outside world.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Now that Marco has found his beat again, will Jean find his? Where is Jean taking Marco? Find out this and more in the next chapter, "Rather Be".
> 
> I hope this was worth the wait! Again, thank you all so much for being so patient for this chapter. Chapter 8 is already being written as it was originally planned to be in this chapter, but I think with things happening, it's best if it stands in a chapter on it's own. Just wait and see! :D
> 
> So this is the tracklist so far:
> 
> Track 01: "Applause" by Lady GaGa (chap. 1)  
> Track 02: "Turn Me On" by David Guetta feat. Nicki Minaj (chap. 1)  
> Track 03: "Can't You See" by Total feat. Notorious B.I.G. (chap. 2)  
> Track 04: "Human Nature" by Madonna (chap. 2)  
> Track 05: "Dance of Die" by Janelle Monae feat. Saul Williams (chap. 3)  
> Track 06: "Back and Forth" by Aaliyah (chap. 4)  
> Track 07: "Church" by T-Pain (chap. 4)  
> Track 08: "Happy" by Pharrell Williams (chap. 6)  
> Track 08: "Who Can I Run to?" by Xscape (chap. 6)  
> Track 09: "La la la" by Naughty Boy feat. Sam Smith (chap. 7)
> 
> Thank you all again so much for reading!!! <3

**Author's Note:**

> Who is this mystery man? And where has Marco seen him before? Find out this in more, next time!
> 
> If you made it to the end, thank you so much for sticking around. I hope you enjoyed it and will stay tuned for more! Please let me know what you think or if you find typos in the comments, or shoot me an ask on [tumblr](http://enjouji.tumblr.com)! Thank you so much for reading! :D


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